“Thank me, my dear. For what?”
“For—for saying nothing! For not crowing over me as you might have done!”
The flushed, upturned face was very sweet—all the sweeter perhaps for the plastered hair, which gave to it so quaint and old-world an air. Lady Hayes laid a wrinkled hand on the girl’s shoulder; her eyes twinkled humorously through her spectacles.
“No, I won’t crow, my dear! That would be ungenerous. Circumstances have been pretty hard on you already. This—this little exhibition was not intended for an audience, but for my own private edification. It was unfortunate that the Percivals should have chosen such a moment for their first call. I was sorry for your discomfiture.”
“You oughtn’t to have been! I meant to be naughty. Oh, you’ve scored—scored all the way. I apologise in dust and ashes, but please—if you will be very noble—never speak of it again!”
She reached the door once more, was about to make a bolt for the staircase, when Lady Hayes’s voice called to her to return—
“Darsie?”
“Yes!”
“Come here, child!”
The thin hand was held out to meet hers, the kind old eyes looked wonderfully soft and tender.