Mildred glanced at him uneasily. She did not like the tone in his voice.
“I have a bit of bad news for you, Arthur. That fool, that idiot, Jane”—and she stamped her little foot upon the pavement—“has upset the mummy hyacinth-pot and broken the flower off just as it was coming into bloom. I have given her a quarter’s wages and her passage back to England, and packed her off.”
“Why, Mildred,” remonstrated Miss Terry, “what a fuss to make about a flower!”
She turned on her almost fiercely.
“I had rather have broken my arm, or anything short of my neck, than that she should have broken that flower. Arthur planted it, and now the clumsy girl has destroyed it,” and Mildred looked as though she were going to cry.
As there was nothing more to be said, Miss Terry went away. As soon as she was gone, Mildred turned to Arthur and said—
“You were right, Arthur; we shall never see it bloom in this world.”
“Never mind about the flower, dear; it cannot be helped. I want to speak to you of something more important. Miss Terry saw you kiss me last night, and she not unnaturally is anxious to know what it all means.”
“And did you tell her?”
“Yes.”