“I just wish you’d go out with her too, Miss Blanchie,” said the milliner. “It is hot in here, and you’re looking pale yourself. I can call you in a moment when you’re wanted. I’ll tell you what,” she went on, with a sudden inspiration, “shall I tell Aline to take your tea out into the garden? Your dear mamma might like it, for she’s been writing all the afternoon, and Master Herty will help Aline to lay it.”
Aline was the only servant who had been added to the High Street establishment, and with her happy French faculty of adapting herself to varying circumstances, she had proved so far a real boon to the little family.
So Miss Halliday opened the door leading to the kitchen and gave her directions, while Blanche and Stasy made their way out to the long, pleasant strip of walled-in garden at the back of the old-fashioned house.
“Blanche,” said Stasy, as they slowly walked up and down the gravel path, “it wasn’t only about the hat I gave that sigh. I do feel so hurt at Lady Hebe, and I do so wish Miss Halliday hadn’t put her into my head again.”
“She doesn’t know anything about Hebe a not answering my letter,” said Blanche. “There was no use speaking of it.”
“No, of course not,” Stasy agreed.
“And I feel certain there must be some reason for it,” Blanche resumed. “She is the very last girl in the world to change to us because of all this. Besides, I think it was quite as difficult for her before to be nice to us, as it would be now.”
“Perhaps so,” said Stasy, rather absently. “Blanche, I do feel so dull and cross now, somehow. It isn’t, after all, as much fun as I expected. I do so dislike some of the people that come with their orders.”
“Yet, I think, on the whole, they have been wonderfully kind,” said Blanche. “Kind, and even delicate.”
“Oh, I daresay they have,” said Stasy. “But they have such ridiculous ideas! That woman yesterday, who wanted a bonnet that would ‘go’ with everything. And yet it wasn’t to be black or any neutral colour.”