"This way, please," she said briefly, pointing toward the room where Julius Cæsar was enthroned in his easy-chair.
Priscilla could not suppress a smile at the absurd sight.
"Then you did it?"
"I? Why of course not! I haven't been downstairs."
Then Priscilla stopped. She remembered her visit to the kitchen, and for the present she was not anxious to explain the glass of milk.
"But who could have done this ridiculous thing? An earthquake couldn't have done much more."
Priscilla hardly dared glance around the dishevelled room. Some of the results accomplished by Martine were foolish, others were improvements on the original arrangement of things.
"You must have had a visitor," continued Mrs. Tilworth, pursuing her search for information.
Priscilla was silent. She perceived that Martine had been the mischief-maker, and for the moment she was indignant with her friend. Martine might have realized that an act of this kind would bring Mrs. Tilworth's wrath on Priscilla as well as on the absent perpetrator of the mischief.
"Then it was Martine Stratford!" continued Mrs. Tilworth. "I am glad that you had no hand in this foolishness, Priscilla. For I take your word that you have not been downstairs. But I am disappointed in Martine. She has attractive manners, and lately she seemed to be toning down. Certainly she appeared very well at the dinner the other evening. Her mother, too, is a sensible woman. So it must be her father who spoils Martine. The girl has had a training very different from yours, and her sense of responsibility is small."