“Chester, come here!”
Chester came, endeavouring, unsuccessfully, to avoid all outward semblance of guilt.
“Chester, might I ask what you were doing with that—that young person?” Mrs. Pilkins’ manner was ominous.
“I was helping her—a little—with her hair.”
“With her—why, what—do you——”
“She is tied. Her hands, you know. … She——”
“Tied, is she?” Mrs. Pilkins bestowed a chilled stare upon the retreating figure of the captive. “Well, she deserves to be. They should keep her tied. Chester, I want you to stay close to me and not go wandering off again.”
“Yes, my dear, I will—I mean, I won’t.”
“Besides, you may be needed any minute now. Mr. Harcourt”—she indicated that gentleman, who had approached—“has been kind [190] enough to invite us to take part in this beautiful production.”
“But, my dear—but——”