"For the goodness gracious sake, Madam!" she cried. "Whatever has happened to your bonnet?"
Madam Flynt waved her aside with dignity and addressed Kitty.
"We have had a most interesting drive!" she said. "I congratulate you, Kitty, on your skill; and I am deeply thankful to have been able—you understand, my dear! Good evening! Cornelia, you are treading on my skirt. If you have pretty feet, it is not necessary to trample——There! don't mind me! it was my fault, I dare say."
Every moment of this evening was bitten into Kitty's mind, an ineffaceable impression: sharpest and clearest of all, the moment when she stood faltering in the doorway of the Red Indian Room.
Miss Johanna Ross (in rose-color this time) was sitting erect among her pillows, reading "Framley Parsonage." She was going through the whole Trollope fleet of "old three-deckers" with infinite enjoyment. Her firm, rather sharp countenance was relaxed in lines of leisurely amusement. Looking up, and meeting Kitty's eyes, it waked into vivid attention.
"What's the matter?" demanded Miss Johanna. "Sickness or accident?"
She had dropped her book, and was gathering her draperies about her.
"Sickness!" Kitty spoke quietly, trying to keep all hurry out of her voice.
"An old friend of yours, Aunt Johanna, has come back and is—is very ill, I fear. He would like to see you. It is——"
"Russell Gaylord!" said Johanna Ross.