Flora gave a final dash at the keys as she spoke--enough to set a stoic's teeth on edge. Madame looked up languidly.
"Yes, you may shut the piano. My headache is painful and I cannot properly attend to you."
No need of further permission. Flora shut down the lid with a bang, and disappeared. Ethel closed her book.
"I beg your pardon for my thoughtlessness, Madame Guise. I ought not to have read to you: I forgot your headache. Can I get you anything for it?"
"Your reading has not hurt me at all, my dear. No, nothing: only time will cure me."
Ethel, who had moved to the window, and was standing at it suddenly burst into a laugh.
"I was thinking of that old gentleman's surprise," she said, "when he saw me here. His looks expressed it. Where do you think he had seen me to-day before, Madame Guise?"
The mention of the old gentleman--Squire Dobie--aroused Madame's interest. She lifted her languid head quickly. "I do not know."
"In Mrs. Bent's best kitchen, stoning raisins. I went into the Dolphin to get something for mamma, and began to help Mrs. Bent to do them, for she said she should be late with her pudding. Old Squire Dobie came in and saw me at them. When he found me at home here at dinner, I know he was puzzled."
"What a--strange manner he had;--what curious things he said to Mr. Castlemaine!" spoke Madame, seizing upon the opportunity.