“Flora!” ejaculated Mr. Armour warningly.
The lady started, dropped her fan to her side, and burst into an hysterical laugh. “How you startled me! I did not know that there was a stranger present. Who is this young lady?”
“You know who she is,” said Mr. Armour severely, while Mr. Valentine muttered wickedly, “Ananias and Sapphira.”
“It is Miss Delavigne, I suppose,” she replied peevishly; “but why did you not let us know that she was coming by this steamer? I was unprepared. How do you do?” and she extended her finger tips to Vivienne. “Did you have a good passage? You must have some tea. I will speak to the servants,” and she disappeared.
In a few minutes she returned, a shining, sparkling vision, and quite mistress of herself. “I have spoken to the table maid; she will see that you are attended to. Will you excuse us if we leave you? We have an engagement for this evening, and I have to pick up a friend on the way.”
“I should be sorry to keep you,” said Vivienne calmly; “and I am tired and would like to go to bed.”
“A room is being made ready for you,” said Mrs. Colonibel graciously. “I hope that you may sleep well. Come Uncle and Valentine, we are late.”
Colonel Armour and Mr. Valentine came from the room, drew on fur topcoats, and with a polite good-night to Mr. Armour and Vivienne left them standing in the hall.
At their departure Mr. Armour fell into a kind of reverie that lasted some minutes. Then he pulled himself together, apologetically ushered Vivienne into the dining room, and bowed himself away.
Vivienne sat at the table drinking tea and eating bread and butter and wondering languidly what Mrs. Colonibel had said to the fat maid-servant, who was waiting on her in great curiosity and some slight disrespect.