‘And does this pretty creature live in the house?’ continued Mrs. Jordan with tender interest.
‘Yes, madam; she is my cousin, Margaret Slade.’
‘How nice! I never had a cousin when I was so young as that. How I envy her!’
‘“This shall to the Duke,”’ quoted Mrs. Powell menacingly. Then they both laughed again.
William Henry was dazzled, delighted, and a little uncomfortable.
‘We must not take up his time,’ said Mrs. Jordan rising and consulting her watch.
‘Now that we know that he is so very much engaged,’ assented Mrs. Powell slily.
‘But you have not told me your business ladies,’ observed William Henry naïvely.
Then they both laughed again, as they well might, for the truth was that, having something so very much more pleasant in hand, they had forgotten all about it; they were not bees, but butterflies.
‘The fact is—only your company is so delightful it put our business out of our heads—we want to go over the play with you.’