“You are prompt!” she said. “That is good! You have been taught not to waste other people’s time. There is not time enough in the world to go round, and yet—ring the bell, will you, Folly?—people waste it—or steal it—as if it were water. Do you understand?”
Honor started at the sudden question, which was like the swoop of a hawk.
“Not—not altogether, madame!” she faltered. “To waste time; we are taught that that is at once foolish and sinful; to steal—how then?”
“Listen! If you waste your own time, that is your own affair. If you had been half or even a quarter of an hour late, you would have wasted my time. It does not belong to you; therefore you steal it! Do you see?”
“I see, madame!” Honor glanced thankfully at the little gilt clock on the mantel, which had struck six as she entered the room. Miss Folly had kept her waiting in the ante-room five minutes before ushering her in; she wondered why. Was that—
“To come too early,” Mrs. Damian continued, with her abrupt nod, “is no better. In that case also it is my time you take. If I had wanted you at half-past five, I should have said so. Do you see?”
She swooped again.
“Yes, madame!” murmured Honor, this time with a grateful glance at Miss Folly, who gave her an enigmatic smile and poked the fire.
“I allowed five minutes for arrival and reception; it is now—ah! on the moment, here comes supper!”
Such a wonderful supper! The dishes were white and gold, like the salon; the broiled chicken, the fried potatoes, the crisp rolls, all showed various tints of brownish gold. Mrs. Damian watched with keen eyes as Honor ate, with the wholesome appetite of vigorous girlhood, yet with the delicate nicety which was part of the education at Pension Madeleine. She herself supped on a cup of soup and a roll; but it was a gold cup, and the soup looked very good. She talked easily, telling of her recent travels; now and then asking a question in her odd, pouncing way, but mostly, it seemed, content to watch the child and enjoy her enjoyment.