"And I interrupted you."
"No; you interrupted Mrs. Rogers, for which we were much obliged—she might have sat for us longer than we liked. I am very pleased to see you."
Certainly Audrey was a pleasant sight. There was no critical afterthought in the admiring look which Miss Haviland turned on her visitor, and Audrey felt to her finger-tips this large-hearted feminine homage. To compel another woman to admire you is always a triumph; besides, Miss Haviland was an artist, and her admiration was worth something—it was like having the opinion of an expert. Audrey pondered for a moment, with her head at a becoming angle, for she had not yet accounted for herself.
"My cousin Vincent Hardy asked me to call on you. I believe he is a very old friend of yours?"
"Yes; we have known each other since we were children."
"What do you think of his going out to Canada to farm?"
"I didn't know he had gone."
(Then Vincent had not thought it worth while to say good-bye to his "little half-sister." So far, so good.)
"Oh, didn't you? He went six weeks ago."
"I never heard. It's an unlikely thing for him to do, but that's the sort of thing he always did do."