"And I'll see that you have what you choose," she promised. "Louise will bring it up. Ah! she has brought your flowers already," with a quick change of expression.
"Yes—with the hot water," Ermengarde faltered, changing colour quickly. "She always puts flowers on my table for dinner."
"Would she put them on mine, I wonder?"
"Miss Somers, what can it matter? Why in the word shouldn't the stupid boy give me flowers if he likes? Besides, I only found it out yesterday."
"I was sure you didn't know. Miss Boundrish only discovered it quite recently. She is of an inquiring disposition. And what she knows, or thinks she knows, is not long ignored by her world."
"She may know anything and everything she likes about me," Ermengarde flashed out furiously; "how many hairpins I use a day, whether I curl with Hinde's or with tongs, and where I get my gowns—and who pays for them and how much!"
How dared this young woman hint to her of prudence and propriety?
After dinner Agatha came up again, put on fresh logs, and sat meekly by the hearth. She described the desolation Mrs. Allonby's absence had created at table d'hôte, as well as Miss Boundrish's Christian desire to visit and console her in her affliction.
"Of course she has a headache," the fair Dorris had shouted across the table, "and no wonder after yesterday."
"Sweet girl!" Ermengarde commented, thankful that the visit scheme had been frustrated.