"Yes. Certainly the style looks a bit out of date," said Isobel, laughing. "I wonder her people didn't get her some new ones when they knew she was coming here, instead of sending her in old-fashioned things like that."
Pamela, deep in her book, became suddenly aware of the turn the conversation had taken, and fearing Beryl might return and overhear (because Isobel was thoughtlessly talking in her usual clear, penetrating voice), she clapped her book to, and jumped up, saying:
"What do you say to a tune—and, oh, I know—a little dance—to tire us out before we go to bed. May I have the pleasure, mam'selle? Get up, Isobel, I want to push the couch out of the way to make more room. Come and show us what you learnt at Madame Clarence's on Friday?"
Isobel, welcoming any diversion for a change, willingly helped to push the furniture out of the way, and very soon she was waltzing round the room to the strains of a haunting melody that Pamela was playing on the piano. Caroline, although she protested that she could not dance, was made to join in by Isobel.
"I'll show you, come on!" Isobel insisted; and to the accompaniment of Pamela's tune and much laughter and joking from Isobel (all of which Caroline took very good-temperedly), Caroline was piloted round the room, moving ponderously and ungracefully in the mazes of a waltz.
"Of course you're not obliged to dance on my feet, dear child," groaned Isobel, laughingly. "It would make a little variety for you if you danced on the carpet just occasionally, you know. Take care, you'll knock that chair over! Look out, Pamela, we're coming past you!"
It was to this laughing, animated scene that Beryl returned. Pamela, looking over her shoulder, took a hurried glance at Beryl's face, and was satisfied. "I'm so glad. She didn't overhear Isobel then," she thought. But Pamela was wrong.
However, Beryl, having had time to cool her tell-tale cheeks before she came in, joined in now as if quite unconscious; and when, presently, Ellen appeared with four glasses of hot milk on a tray (followed by Martha, who was curious to see what was going on), Beryl was playing a lively Irish jig on the piano, and Pamela and Isobel were dancing furiously in the middle of the room; while Caroline sat gasping on the couch, fanning herself with the Barrowfield Observer, and recovering from the polka Isobel had just been trying to teach her.
"I like to see young things dance and enjoy theirselves," observed Martha, as she and Ellen stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching.
"It's a long time since there was any dancing in this house," said Ellen.