“Come,” she said. “I’m going in. Grandpa is there, and you must come in and see him.”
She turned as she spoke, and William got to his feet, still white and haggard, his eyes following her. But Virginia stopped abruptly. Before them on the lawn, unheard and unseen in her approach, stood a small, white-clad figure in a daring scarlet hat, pale and piquant.
“I don’t think you heard me,” said Fanchon softly, her dark eyes flashing from one to the other. “You weren’t listening!” And she laughed shrilly.
William crimsoned, but Virginia was calm.
“No, we didn’t,” she replied simply; “but I’m glad to see you. We were just going into the house—will you come, too?”
Fanchon lifted her fawn-like eyes slowly to the other girl’s face. There was something noble in it, too noble for the retort that was on the end of her sharp tongue. She colored angrily.
“Of course! I came to call,” she said lightly. “William got ahead of me, I see.”
Virginia did not reply to this. She was already at the piazza steps.
“Please come this way,” she said lightly.
But Fanchon did not answer her. She had approached her husband, her large eyes mocking him, her lips parted. A strange look, half elfish, half fond, was on her face.