“My dear Trix,” replied the Duchessa coldly, “I have an excellent gardener. I do not care for recommendations emanating from a complete stranger.”
“There was no smallest need to snub Doctor Hilary, though,” said Trix quietly. The queer surprise on his face had caused a little stab at her heart.
The Duchessa made no reply.
“Pia, what is the matter?” asked Trix again.
“I have told you, nothing,” responded the Duchessa.
Trix shook her head. “Yes; there is. You’re unhappy. You’ve been—you can tell me to mind my own business, if you like—you’ve been horribly prickly lately. You’ve tried to hurt my feelings, and Tibby’s, and now you’ve tried to hurt Doctor Hilary’s. And he didn’t deserve it in the least, but he thought, for a moment, he did. And it isn’t like you, Pia. It isn’t one bit. Do tell me what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Pia again.
“Darling, that’s a—a white lie at all events.”
Pia coloured. “Anyhow it’s not worth talking about,” she said.
“Are you sure it isn’t?” urged Trix. “Couldn’t I help the weeniest bit?”