"We must really go, Dolores, I have brought your coat and hat," Zoe announces, dropping the articles on a chair, as she speaks.
"Mr. Crane, what a good time you must have, if you are fond of pictures; why this house is a paradise," says this precocious child, going over to one of the mirrors to put on her hat.
"Sir Barry Traleigh is a beautiful painter," announces the youngest Miss Litchfield proudly. It has occasioned her much pride to tell her girl acquaintances, how a real, live "Sir" had initiated her into the mysteries of painting.
Ned looks deeply amused, the girl is so original, so different from any other girl of her years. The corners of his mouth twitch in a highly suspicious way; he would enjoy vastly to laugh, but politeness forbids, and he turns to Dolores.
"When did you say this very beautiful cousin of yours, Miss Gray, was expected?"
Dolores laughs, her sweet, silvery tones filling the handsome old room with sweet music.
"It is doubtful what day. I shall expect you to fall in love with Blondine the first time you meet," she says archly.
"Perhaps," Ned answers, watching Zoe fastening up her roll of music.
"Have the girls gone?" asks Mr. Vacine, coming in from a brisk walk around the snow covered garden.
"No, but just going," Dolores says, smiling.