Sir John fixed a cold eye upon Nan.
"I am unacquainted with the state of the dormouse's health," he said—"disgusting little beasts," he added, turning for sympathy to Annie, whose bright dark eyes danced with fun as she watched him.
"They're not disgusting; they're perfectly heavenly little darlings," came from Nan in an indignant voice. "Oh, and what about the white rats? Boris had four in a box when I went last to the Towers, and Kitty had one all to herself, and Boris and Kitty were always fighting as to which were the most beautiful—the one rat or the four. Did you ever see a white rat, Annie? They are pets, with long tails like worms."
"Hester," exclaimed Sir John, "will you induce Nan to hold her tongue and eat her supper in peace?"
Hester bent forward and whispered something to Nan, who shrugged her shoulders indignantly. Her face grew crimson.
"I can't learn that proverb," she said, after a pause. "I can't obey it, its no use trying. Father, do you hear? I can't be one of those seen-and-not-heard girls. Do you hear me, father?"
"I do, Nan. If we have finished supper, shall we go into the drawing-room?" he added, turning to Annie.
Nan lingered behind. She slipped her hand through her sister's arm and dragged her on to the terrace.
"I feel so wicked that I think I'll burst," she exclaimed. "Why is father always throwing a damp cloth over me?"