"We don't have half as many things as the other houses," Cripps retorted indignantly, "and I haven't got it, it's my beastly little sister----"
"Now that's not nice of you," said Lallie reprovingly, "to speak of the poor little girl like that; no mortal could want mumps. But I don't think I can keep bawling to you from here. I'll come down if you can ferret out another chair--not a mumpy one, mind--and I'll try and bring you to a more Christian frame of mind."
She vanished from the window and Cripps flew to the summer house to fetch one of Tony's most luxurious garden chairs, feeling that for once the fates had not dealt unkindly with him when they put him in quarantine.
Across the lawn towards him came Lallie, swinging a green silk bag.
"Do you like your feet up?" asked the gallant Cripps. "There's a piece that pulls out."
"Thank you--it would be a pity to waste these shoes, wouldn't it?"
And Lallie subsided into a long chair which supported her very pretty feet, shod in shiny shoes with buckles and Louis Quinze heels. From the green silk bag she drew forth a roll, which proved to be lace, and she began to sew diligently.
"What pretty work!" said Cripps, drawing up his chair to face hers.
"It's a strip of Limerick lace I'm making, and I've just got to a 'basket.' The light's good, so I thought I'd do it this morning."
"May I see it close?" asked Cripps, wishing she would look at him instead of at her lace, though black eyelashes resting on rounded cheeks are by no means a disagreeable prospect.