“Iss.” Lally was perfectly agreeable.
“You will not promise so readily fifteen years hence, little one,” he said; but this being a step beyond Lally’s understanding, she kept silence with a wisdom which might not have belonged to her fifteen years hence, either.
And, indeed, no answer was required from her, Bessie and Lord Kemms having settled the matter with a mutual smile, after which, as the leave-taking had been already unduly prolonged, the visitor lifted his hat in adieu to Bessie, and departed.
“Why didn’t he tiss ’oo?” Lally inquired, quite loud enough for Lord Kemms to hear.
“You naughty child!” exclaimed Bessie; “hush! hush! hush!” and then the pair broke their way through the evergreen hedge again, and returned, ostensibly, to their former employment of gathering flowers.
But, in reality, both Lally and her companion were looking after Lord Kemms’ retreating figure. From the grass-plot where they stood, a glimpse was to be obtained at intervals of the road, and at last Bessie relinquished her sham occupation, and stood gazing, with a sad, sad look in her face, after the owner of Kemms Park.
All at once the object of so much attention turned round, and caught her in the very act.
Bessie never professed to be more than human, and accordingly she said to Lally, angrily—
“How can you be so bold, child, as to stare after gentlemen like that?”
“’Oo ’taring too!” retorted Lally, indignantly; and, as she could not deny the truth of this statement, Bessie covered her confusion by a vigorous onslaught among the flowers.