Now this was all immensely flattering, for Flora was quite grown up, and Ermengarde had already lost her silly little heart to her.
"I should like to oblige you," she said.
"Well, do oblige me! Let us fly down this side-walk. There's a shrubbery at the farther end, where we shall be quite alone. Come, give me your hand."
Ermengarde could not resist. A moment later she and Flora were pacing up and down in the shrubbery.
"Ermengarde," said Miss St. Leger eagerly, "are you going to that stupid, stupid picnic to-day?"
"Why, of course," said Ermengarde, looking up in astonishment.
"You may call me Flora if you like, my dear love. What a sweet, pretty pet you are! Now that I look at you by daylight, I think it's a perfect sin that, with a face like yours, you should have to wear short frocks."
Ermie sighed. Miss St. Leger's tone was full of delicious sympathy, and when the next moment she slipped her arm round the little girl's waist, Ermie experienced quite a thrill of delight.
"I have fallen in love with you, that's a fact," said Miss St. Leger; "but now, about that picnic; you don't really want to go?"
"Oh, yes, Flora. Lilias is going to drive me in her pony-carriage."