‘Good morning, Miss Askam,’ Ada replied, her eyes roving anxiously over all the details of the other’s costume. ‘How do you do? I hope you are very well,’ she added, deciding within her own mind that Miss Askam ‘dressed very plain and dark, and all one colour—just a plain, dark brown. I do like a little brightness.’
‘I am very well, thank you,’ said Eleanor, utterly unconscious of this scrutiny. ‘Have you been to Miss Wynter’s again lately?’
‘Yes, Miss Askam. I go there pretty often. Once or twice a week, at any rate. Miss Wynter and I are great friends.’
‘Oh. And how are your songs getting on? Those which you are preparing for the concert, I mean!’
‘Oh, thank you, very well. I’m almost perfect in them now.’
‘Perhaps you would like to sit down. I felt tired; it is such a mild morning,’ said Eleanor, making room on the bench.
Ada promptly sat down.
‘I was feeling a little tired,’ she replied, with an air of languor; ‘really, the weather is not at all seasonable.’
‘No; but do you like frost? I do; but you don’t look to me as if you could stand much of that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, I’m not particularly delicate, thank you—never very strong, but I always keep going, somehow,’ said Ada. ‘I haven’t seen you at Balder Hall, lately,’ she added, to Eleanor’s great astonishment.