She drew me forward. The poor Countess’s face became crimson.
“The what?” she said.
“Oh, you called her that yourself when you were congratulating dear Grace on having a husband and ready-made children. Well, this is the girl, and she is a perfect darling, a deliverer for me out of my worst fit of the dumps.”
“Oh, but they call me Dumps,” I could not help saying.
“Better and better,” said Lady Lilian.—“Now, mother, here she is; judge for yourself.”
“I must really apologise, Miss Grant,” said the Countess. “I must apologise most humbly. I had no idea you were in the room.”
“There’s nothing to apologise for,” I answered. “I am awfully obliged to you, for Lady Lilian wouldn’t have spoken to me but for your saying that. And you had a right to say it, for I expect I am a horror.”
“I am sure you are nothing of the sort—Lilian, my dear Lilian.”
Lady Lilian tripped back.
“Ask this child to tea to-morrow.—Come, won’t you, Miss—Grant? Now good-bye, my dear; you are a very nice, forgiving sort of girl. Good-bye.—Come, Lilian—come!”