“Miss Sax—,” said Guy involuntarily, and then quickly drew himself up. “I mean—it’s rather awkward for a fellow, don’t you know, to listen to things that he ought not to hear—that are not his business—that would annoy other people if they happened to overhear.”
He flushed as he spoke, and Dreda beamed at him with undisguised approval. He was so boyish and honest, so blunderingly transparent, that she felt quite elderly in comparison—a very Sherlock Holmes of diplomacy!
“And what was it that Rowena did overhear? Oh, I guessed there was something! She would never have refused to come to-day unless something had happened to offend her. She has such a dull time of it, poor dear, and she loves a change. What did Maud say?”
“Miss Dreda, if your sister didn’t tell you herself, do you think I ought to repeat a thing that has already annoyed her?”
“Certainly you ought. It’s my business to know, so that I can make things right. I could easily explain—”
Guy gave a short, irritated laugh.
“There’s nothing to explain! Your young sister made an indiscreet remark which Miss Saxon overheard as she came into the room. It is only human nature, I suppose, to vent her annoyance upon me, but it’s hard luck all the same, for I could not help myself, and it was horribly embarrassing for me too!”
“But what did she say?”
Then with another twitch of the lips Guy repeated Maud’s betrayal, at which Dreda was at once horrified and amused.
“The little wretch! I shouldn’t have minded a bit myself, but when you are grown up it’s different! Poor old Ro! It was my fault, for I made her do it. I wanted you to see her in that jolly blue.”