“Bridget Victor,” she said solemnly, “is it the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth you are telling me, or is it just an excuse to get me out of the way? If there’s any trouble, or worry, or illness, or upset coming on, that you want to spare me because I’m young, you’d better know at once that it will only be the expense of the journey wasted, for on the very first breath of it I’d fly back to you if it was across the world!”
“I know it,” said Bridgie, and blinked back a tear. “But it’s the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Pixie, that we are the happiest, and the healthiest, and the contentedest little family in the country, and there’s no need to worry about us. We were thinking only of you, and you are free in this instance to think only of yourself.”
“That’s agreeable!” was Pixie’s comment. The frown left her brow and she smiled, the wide lips parting to show brilliantly white little teeth, teeth very nearly as pretty and infantile as those belonging to the small Patsie upstairs. Beholding that smile, Bridgie had no doubt as to the verdict which she was about to hear, and suffered an unreasoning pang of disappointment.
“Then I’ll confess to you, my dear,” continued Pixie affably, “that I find myself just in the mood for excitement. So long as you are well there’s nothing on earth I’d love so much at this moment as to go off on a junket. If Esmeralda wants to give me a good time, let the poor thing have her way—I’ll not hinder her! I’ll go, and I’ll love it; but I’ll not promise how long I shall stay—all sorts of things may happen.”
“Yes,” said Bridgie dreamily, “all sorts of things!”
And so Pixie O’Shaughnessy went forth to meet her fate.