"Why are you vexed with me?" she asked.
But it was not so easy to answer the question straightforwardly, and Mrs. Bellairs paused, half repenting that she had spoken.
"Do you know," she said, "what people are beginning to call you? They say that you are a flirt; and that is not a desirable character for a girl to acquire."
Lucia's cheeks burned in good earnest now, but it was with anger, not shame.
"But it is not true. I am not a flirt. It is quite absurd to say so. You know I am not, Mrs. Bellairs."
She was right. This was not at all the accusation which her friend had in her heart to make, though people did say it, and Mrs. Bellairs had heard them.
Lucia turned around. "I will get ready to go," she said. But some one was standing close beside her.
"Mr. Percy!" she exclaimed angry and annoyed, while Mrs. Bellairs hastily congratulated herself that he had neither been mentioned nor alluded to.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I came in this instant to look for you for our waltz. Some one told me you were here."
But Lucia could not recover her temper in a moment.