"From you, Mollie Dane."
"Not if I know myself—and I rather fancy I do! Oh, no, Mr. Walraven—no, you don't! I shan't say another word to you, or to any other living being, until I choose; and it's no use bullying, for you can't make me, you know. I've given Sir Roger his alternative, and I can give you yours. If you don't fancy my remaining here under a cloud, why, I can go as I came, free as the wind that blows. You've only to say the word, Guardy Walraven!"
The blue eyes flashed as Carl Walraven had never seen them flash before; the pink-tinged cheeks flamed rose-red; but her voice never rose, and she kept her quaint seat on the stool.
"Cricket! Cricket! Cricket!" was "guardy's" reproachful cry.
"You dear old thing! You wouldn't like to lose your hateful little tom-boy, would you? Well, you shan't, either. I only meant to scare you that time. You'll ask me no more nasty questions, and I'll stay and be your Cricket the same as ever, and we'll try and forget the little episode of the past two weeks. And as for you, Sir Roger, don't you do anything rash. Just think things over, and make sure you're perfectly satisfied, before you have anything to do with me, for I don't intend to explain any more than I have explained. I'm a good-for-nothing, giddy little moth, I know; but I don't really want to deceive anybody. No; don't speak on impulse, dear Sir Roger. Take a week or two, and think about it."
She kissed her hand coquettishly to the two gentlemen, and tripped out of the room.
And there they sat, looking at each other, altogether bewildered and dazed, and altogether more infatuated about her than ever.
Society was electrified at finding Miss Dane back, and looked eagerly for the sequel to this little romance. They got it from Mr. Walraven.
Mr. Walraven, bland as oil, told them his ward had received on her bridal night a summons to the bedside of a dying and very near relative. Miss Dane, ever impulsive and eccentric, had gone. She had remained with the dying relative for a fortnight, and merely for mischief—no need to tell them how mischievous his ward was—had kept the whole matter a secret. It was very provoking, certainly, but was just like provoking Mollie Dane.
Mr. Walraven related this little fable smiling sweetly, and with excellent grace. But society took the story for what it was worth, and shook its head portentously over Miss Dane and her mysteries.