“Come with me, for goodness’ sake, Annie! I can’t walk a single step of this tortuous way without your help.”
“Really, Mabel,” said Annie, “you are using quite a poetic expression. Your character of a poetess will be established, my dear, if you continue to speak in that vein.”
“Mabel!” said her aunt.
“I will help you through your tortuous way,” laughed Annie; and the girls advanced arm-in-arm.
“Mabel,” said Lady Lushington, “I have the pleasure of introducing you to my dear friend Mrs Ogilvie.”
Poor Mabel gave a start; but for Annie’s supporting arm, big as she was, she might have fallen.
The terrace was lighted with Japanese lanterns, which swayed slightly in the faint breeze. These cast lights here and there, and immense shadows in other directions. Annie and Mabel had now got into the light. Lady Lushington moved a step or two, bringing Mrs Ogilvie forward as she did so, and the four figures were all distinctly visible.
“Which of these girls is your niece, my dear Henrietta?” said Mrs Ogilvie.
“This is my niece, Susan,” was Lady Lushington’s response; and Mabel felt her hand clasped by a kindly but firm palm. She looked into the eyes of a tall woman with a pleasant expression of face, who was becomingly dressed in black lace.
This lady had hair turning grey, and a face which did not show the slightest trace of being made up. She might have been fifty years of age.