“What is the source of your information?” inquired my lord.
“Gobo says so,” said Miss Perry.
“Put not your faith in that man, my dear Miss Goose,” said Cheriton, mellifluously. “It is only because he is afraid of taking a toss.”
“But they have got po-lice-men,” said Miss Perry, impressively.
There can be no reasonable doubt that in her new riding-habit Miss Perry looked perfectly distracting. Lord Cheriton was certainly of that opinion. As for Jim Lascelles, he waved her away from him with great energy.
“That is the sort of thing,” said he, with an appeal for sympathy and protection.
“Miss Goose,” said Lord Cheriton, “Mr. Lascelles has made a serious indictment against you.”
“Has he?” said Miss Perry, opening very large, very round, and very blue eyes upon Jim.
“Mr. Lascelles complains,” said Cheriton, with paternal severity, “that while he is assiduously engaged in copying that famous portrait of your great-grandmamma, you persist in coming into this room in your smartest gowns; in sitting in the middle of that sofa; in absorbing the best light; in posing in a manner that no really sensitive painter can possibly resist; with the melancholy result that you literally force him to paint you instead of your great-grandmamma, quite, as he assures me, against his rational judgment and his natural inclination.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” said Miss Perry, with charming friendliness. “It made me rather tired at first holding my chin like this, but at the end of an hour I always get a cream bun.”