“Is it an hour?” said Jim Lascelles. “Dear me! how time flies! One can hardly believe it.”
“Girl,” said the old lady, “I demand an explanation.”
As Miss Perry seemed to have no explanation to offer, Cheriton came to her aid.
“The truth is,” said he, in honeyed tones, “my distinguished young friend Lascelles is the victim of a very natural error. My idea was, of course, Caroline, as you are aware, that he should come here to copy your Gainsborough, but it would appear that he has put another interpretation upon his mandate. And I feel bound to confess that I for one cannot blame him.”
Caroline Crewkerne, however, was not appeased so easily.
“In my opinion,” said she, “it is unpardonable that any man should take it upon himself to paint clandestinely the portrait of my niece. And in my house, too.”
Jim held himself very proudly and perhaps a little disdainfully also. The old woman’s tone was certainly offensive.
“Lady Crewkerne,” said he, not so humbly as he might have done, “I will admit that I have done wrong, but I hope my offense is not a very grave one.”
The old lady looked Jim over in a decidedly scornful manner. She appeared to be not quite sure whether a person such as Jim was entitled to receive a reply from her.
“It depends upon the light in which one chooses to view the subject,” said she, in a voice which trembled with anger. “I have formed my own opinion about such behavior. I must ask you to leave this house immediately, and in future it will be closed to you.”