Miss Foster stood in the middle of the room, large, remote, unapproachable; manifestly disapproving.
"I shall esteem it a favour, Miss Clonmell, if, in future, you will let me know beforehand when you intend to be absent from a meal."
"Certainly, Miss Foster; then I may as well tell you now that I shall not be home for luncheon to-morrow. I'm so glad you reminded me. Won't you sit down?"
Lallie herself sat down again in the big deep chair; so large was it that she almost seemed to lie down in it as she leaned back and stared fixedly at the fire. She looked so comfortable, so entirely at her ease, that Miss Foster simply longed to give this impudent girl a piece of her mind, but the events of the early afternoon had somewhat shaken her serene faith in the innate wisdom of her instincts. For years she had religiously tended the flame of her self-confidence till it burned with a steady radiance upon the altar of her beliefs. To-day, however, the flame had been blown upon by an adverse wind of criticism; it flickered until its light resembled a will-o'-the-wisp rather than the clear light of reason she had always supposed it to be. Even the sight of the denuded eggshell upon Lallie's empty plate, annoying anachronism at that hour though it was, could not stir Miss Foster to engage in open conflict.
The graceful little figure in the loose white dressing-gown, lolling in the chair, plainly awaited the first onslaught. Lazy and luxurious, Lallie looked sideways at Miss Foster under her long lashes and said sweetly:
"Do sit down: you look so uncomfortable standing there."
"No, thank you"; and in spite of herself Miss Foster replied quite civilly. "I only came to deliver Mr. Bevan's message. Do you think you will be well enough to come down to dinner?"
"I assure you I am not in the least ill. I will come down most punctually. But, if you will excuse me, I will not change till it's time to dress. I have letters to write and will do them here by this nice fire. Thank you so much for coming to inquire for me."
Miss Foster nearly answered: "I did nothing of the kind," but again mistrust of the "will-o'-the-wisp" prevented her, and she sailed out of the room without another word.
Lallie thrust out her little feet to the warmth and laughed.