But pretty as she was, she was aware that Captain Lancaster was regarding her with knit brows and a general air of entire disapprobation. Perhaps it was a novel experience. It seemed to amuse her. The dimples deepened around the sweet, arch mouth. She looked down at the card in her hand, and began to read it aloud in a soft, hesitating, inquiring voice: "Cap-tain Lan-caster?"
"Yes," he replied, and was on the point of making his most elegant bow when he suddenly remembered that it was not at all necessary to be so ceremonious with the nurse of his housekeeper's niece. So he straightened himself up again and said, almost tartly:
"You are the baby's nurse, I presume?"
The long fringe of the girl's lashes lifted a moment, and she flashed a dazzling glance into his face.
"The—baby?" she inquired.
"Yes—the little Miss West—the child that is to get to England under my care. Aren't you her nurse?"
The young lady had put a very small, white hand up to her face and coughed very hard for a moment. She looked at him the next moment, very red in the face from the exertion.
"I—ah, yes, certainly; I'm the nurse," she replied, demurely.
And then ensued a moment's silence, broken at last by the girl, who said, quietly and politely: