“He won't come. The poor lad is blue tonight, in spite of his improvement. Something is amiss, and there is no getting a word from him.”
“Sad memories afflict him, perhaps,” sighed Blanche.
“Don't be absurd, dear, sad memories are all nonsense; melancholy is always indigestion, and nothing is so sure a cure as fun,” said Rose briskly. “I'm going to send in a polite invitation begging him to come and amuse us. He'll accept, I haven't a doubt.”
The message was sent, but to Rose's chagrin a polite refusal was returned.
“He shall come. Sir Jasper, do you and Mr. Annon go as a deputation from us, and return without him at your peril” was her command.
They went, and while waiting their reappearance the sisters spoke of what all had observed.
“How lovely Mrs. Snowdon looks tonight. I always thought she owed half her charms to her skill in dress, but she never looked so beautiful as in that plain black silk, with those roses in her hair,” said Rose.
“What has she done to herself?” replied Blanche. “I see a change, but can't account for it. She and Tavie have made some beautifying discovery, for both look altogether uplifted and angelic all of a sudden.”
“Here come the gentlemen, and, as I'm a Talbot, they haven't got him!” cried Rose as the deputation appeared, looking very crestfallen. “Don't come near me,” she added, irefully, “you are disloyal cowards, and I doom you to exile till I want you. I am infinite in resources as well as this recreant man, and come he shall. Mrs. Snowdon, would you mind asking Mr. Treherne to suggest something to wile away the rest of this evening? We are in despair, and can think of nothing, and you are all-powerful with him.”
“I must decline, since he refuses you” was the decided answer, as Mrs. Snowdon moved away.