“Anne means an act of mortification. She has many curious bits of vernacular from the nuns who teach her; curious to others. That is one of them,” explained Anne Dallas.
“How interesting!” said Helen, by this time surfeited of little Anne and not intending to be drawn into conversation with Anne Dallas. Little Anne was quick to feel atmospheres. She flushed and said vehemently:
“The best of all lovely Annes, or anything, is Miss Anne Dallas!”
“Indeed that is true, little Anne, though you and I love each other so well,” said Richard Latham. “Miss Dallas stands between me and darkness; between me and silence, between me and inability to do my work, Miss Abercrombie.”
“What a beautiful thing to say, Mr. Latham! Miss Dallas must feel recompensed at this moment for all that she has done, all that she will do. Yet I can see how bad it would be for you not to have a good secretary.” Helen smiled toward Anne, and over her.
“It would, indeed. But I cannot say that it has ever occurred to me that Miss Dallas was a good secretary,” said Richard, slowly. “Are you too tired to walk about? Do gardens bore you?”
“Not such a garden as this one,” said Helen, graciously. “Please let Miss Dallas come with us. Kit will look after the little girl. I am sure that you are accustomed to Miss Dallas’s guidance.”
“That is another profoundly true remark, Miss Abercrombie,” said Richard. “You will show our best spots to Miss Abercrombie, in case I pass them, Miss Dallas?”
“Gladly,” said Anne, obeying Helen’s gesture to walk at her other hand. “But you know we think them all the best! This garden is one of Mr. Latham’s loveliest, though least-known, poems.”
Little Anne slipped her hand into Kit’s and held him back.