“Come, come,” she said crossly, “how much longer must I be kept waiting? We will go down in the lift, Mabel; you lead the way.”
Mabel immediately went first, Lady Lushington followed, and Annie brought up the rear. They entered a large lift, and presently found themselves on the ground-floor of the great hotel. In a very short time they were in the restaurant, which was quite the most brilliant and dazzling place Annie Brooke had ever seen. It seemed to be almost filled with gay ladies all in full evening-dress, and gentlemen in immaculate white shirt-fronts, white ties, and dinner-jackets. There were waiters rushing about here, there, and everywhere; and the tables, covered with their snowy napery, were further adorned with dazzlingly bright glass and silver; and, to add magic to the general effect, a little electric lamp with a silk shade over it stood in the centre of each table. There were flowers, also, in abundance. In short, the whole place seemed to Annie to be a sort of fairyland.
A few people glanced up from their own tables when Lady Lushington, accompanied by the two girls, crossed the huge room to the table set aside for her party. She sat down, and Mabel and Annie found places at each side of her. A menu was immediately presented to her by a most gentlemanly man whom Annie thought perfectly fascinating in appearance, but who only turned out to be the head-waiter. Lady Lushington ordered certain dishes and two or three kinds of wine, and the meal began.
Annie was both hungry and agitated; Mabel was somewhat indifferent. Lady Lushington ate steadily and with considerable appetite, but all the time wearing that slight frown of disapproval on her forehead. Annie glanced at her, and made up her mind that Lady Lushington was a very grand person indeed; that she (Annie), in spite of all her temerity, was going to be a little bit afraid of her; and that, of course, the reason for the great lady’s present discontent was the fact of Priscilla’s outrageous conduct.
The three ladies hardly spoke at all, Mabel having quite sufficient tact to respect her aunt’s present mood. But as the dinner came to an end, concluding with the most delicious ice Annie had ever tasted in all her life, she could not help bending forward and saying in a low tone to Mabel:
“What a great pity it is that our Priscie is such a fool!”
Low as her tone was, it reached lady Lushington’s ears, who immediately turned and said in a snappish voice:
“Whom do you mean by our Priscie, Miss Brooke?”
“Why, Priscilla Weir, of course,” answered Annie, colouring as she spoke, and looking particularly sweet and innocent.
“And why did you call her a fool?” was Lady Lushington’s next remark.