“There is nothing to tell. Shan’t went with Diana. It was very wrong of Diana. The child, of course, wasn’t to blame. I wired for her and he sent her back at once, in the care of a most excellent woman. She looked a good cook—you can tell, can’t you?”
“At a glance, just as easily as you can tell a good coachman—or, for the matter of that, a good clergyman—”
“Talking of clergymen—” And Elsie unburdened her heart about Shan’t and Zacharias.
“Dear Zacharias!” said Mrs. Sloane; “I wonder if he had a sense of humour.” This was beside the point, so Elsie brought her back to the odious uncle, who obviously had none. What should she do? It was evident he had designs upon the children, he might even kidnap them. She didn’t trust him a yard. Mrs. Sloane suggested counter-attractions. Sparks lit in the eyes of the harassed aunt. What distraction could the country offer that could compare with the attraction of London?
“There is no reason a dance should not be given when you want Diana back—a dance in the country is very delightful, so long as it be sufficiently well done, and the right people come, and the right band plays, and the bright moon shines.”
“Who would give one?—you wouldn’t?” This was a bow at a venture.
“And why not in so good a cause?”
“You are an angel.”
“It is not the first time I have been told so when I have but done my most obvious duty against my neighbour’s enemy.”
“There is no one like you.”