A pillow caught from the couch by Frank Leavesley who had just entered, and dexterously thrown, had flattened canvas and showman beneath a cloud of dust.
CHAPTER III A COUNCIL OF THREE
"Now, let's all be happy," said Miss Lambert; they had finished tea and Belinda was removing the things, "for I must be going in a minute, and I have such a lot of things to say—oh dear me, that reminds me," her under-lip fell slightly.
"What?" asked Leavesley.
"That I'm perfectly miserable."
"Oh, don't say that——"
"My dear young lady——"
"I mean I ought to be perfectly miserable," said Miss Lambert with a charming smile, "but somehow I'm not. Do you know, I never am what I ought to be. When I ought to be happy I'm miserable, and when I ought to be miserable I'm happy. Father says I was addled at birth, and that I ought to have been put out of doors on a red-hot shovel as they used to do long ago in Ireland with the omadlunns, or was it the changelings—no matter. I wanted to talk to you about father—no, please don't go," to Verneede, who had made a little movement as if to say "Am I de trop?" "You are both so clever I'm sure you will be able to give me good advice. He's worrying so."