"And if you didn't come, Rachel"—Miss Parrott took up her cup of tea, and set it down again untouched—"I should feel very sorry; I should indeed," she added, with a little catch in her throat.
"So should I," said Rachel abruptly; then she picked up her knife and fork and began to eat as fast as she could.
"Oh, my dear!" cried Miss Parrott, quite horrified, "not so fast! Pray don't, Rachel"—looking down the table-length in distress.
Rachel by this time was alive to the disgrace she was undergoing, and she turned quite pale, and deserting her food altogether, sat stiff and straight on her chair, too miserable to care for anything. Miss Parrott bore this for a breathing-space, and then without a warning she slipped off from her chair and went quickly down to the end of the table.
"I'm not blaming you, you poor little thing," she declared, bending over the dark hair; "don't think so, Rachel."
Rachel turned with a swift movement and hid her face in the laces falling from Miss Parrott's breast.
"I want to go home to Mrs. Henderson's," she sobbed.
"We don't care for any more luncheon, Hooper," said Miss Parrott hoarsely, taking Rachel's hand, "We will go into the other room," and she led her off sobbing.
When Rachel reached Hooper, however, standing petrified with surprise, she looked up at him defiantly and brushed the tears from her cheek.
And after they had passed out, Hooper still stood in a daze. At last he came out of it, and, ejaculating, "Well, I never did!" he began to clear the table.