"Well, perhaps," said Florence dubiously, looking at Star.
"Oh, please don't!" said Star; "I can't wait a minute. I can't really. I'll just have a cup of tea, as you were so very obliging as to ask me, and then perhaps afterwards you would walk a little of the way home with me."
"Oh, as to that, I'm sure I'll be delighted," said Florence. "You don't know how I have been longing to know you."
Just then the dining room door opened and Mrs. Dixie put her head out.
"Florence, you naughty girl——" she began, but then she saw Star and changed her manner. "Oh, my dear child! you are late. And who is your nice little friend? Welcome, my dear—welcome."
"Mother," said Florence, "this is Miss Lestrange, one of the young ladies from the Manor. She was at church, and I have invited her home to have a cup of tea."
"Honored, I'm sure," said Mrs. Dixie. "Come this way, miss."
She threw the dining room door open and ushered Star into a noisy scene. Mr. Dixie was certainly not a refined-looking man. He was sitting far back in a deep arm-chair, with one rough, spoilt-looking little girl on his knee, and another perched upon the arm of the chair.
"Now, dad," said one of his small daughters, "I'm going to pull your right whisker."