She rose to her feet, and Elma followed her example, shaking her skirts and fastening on the shady mushroom hat. No further protestations rose to her lips, so it might be taken for granted that silence gave consent, but half-way down the path she spoke again, in tentative, hesitating fashion.
“I don’t mind about Mrs Nevins. She is rich and strong, and enjoys her life; but Miss Nesbitt is different. She’s an old maid, and poor. She belongs to a good family, so she is asked out with the rest, but she hardly ever gives a tea—not once in a year. It will be a great event to her; she’ll be beginning to make preparations even now; baking cakes, and cleaning the silver, and taking off the covers of the drawing-room chairs. It is all in your honour. She’ll be disappointed if you don’t go.”
Cornelia turned upon her with a flash of reproof. “Why couldn’t you tell me that before, I want to know? Pretty mean I should have felt, backing out of a thing like that! I wouldn’t disappoint the old dear for a fortune. Is it the one with the flat hair, and the little ringlets dangling at the sides? They are too ’cute for anything, those ringlets. Yes! I guessed she was the one, for I noticed her clothes looked all used up. Don’t you worry! I’ll take tea with Miss Nesbitt as often as she wants, and behave so pretty you’ll admire to see me. That’s an olive branch to carry in to Aunt Soph—eh? I reckon she’ll be pretty dusty.”
“I reckon she will.” Elma glanced with a half-fearful smile at her companion’s unruffled face. “I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a hundred pounds. Miss Briskett is formidable enough when she is pleased; but when she is angry—! Cornelia, aren’t you frightened?”
Cornelia’s joyous peal of laughter floated away on the air, and caught the ears of the industrious Morris, who was sweeping the path a hundred yards away. He turned to lean on his brush and stare, while Elma glanced nervously at the curtained windows.
“I never was scared in my life that I know of, and I’m not going to begin with my very own aunt. I rather like a fizzle now and then—it freshens one up. Don’t you worry about me! I’m quite able to stand up for myself.”
She pushed open the gate of The Nook as she spoke and sauntered up the path; laughing, bareheaded, radiantly unashamed. Miss Briskett beheld her approach from her seat in the corner of the drawing-room, and two spots of colour shone dully on her thin cheek bones. The hands which held her knitting trembled with indignation, and her eyes welcomed the culprit with a steely flash.
“Cornelia, are you aware that you are forbidden to trespass on the grass of this park?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are also aware, I presume, that to wander alone bareheaded is not the habit of young ladies in this neighbourhood, and that it is intensely annoying to me that you should do so?”