Adelaide laughed again, but this time more faintly. An ominous frown darkened Mrs Eyrecourt’s face.
“You naughty, naughty, rude child,” she began, sternly. Quintin’s better feelings were aroused.
“I’ll take her upstairs, mamma. Come, Floss,” and, already frightened at her own audacity, the cross-grained little mortal clutched at her brother’s hand, and the two left the room together. Upstairs Quin read Floss a lecture on the enormity of her offence. Overcome by his goodness in escorting her to the nursery, she hugged him vehemently—getting into fresh disgrace for crushing his collar; but maintained stoutly that “the new young lady wasn’t nice or pretty at all, not the least tiny bit.”
“What a nice boy Quintin is, and so handsome,” began Miss Chancellor, gushingly.
“Yes,” said Roma, to whom the remark was addressed; “he’s not a bad child, as children go. I detest children.”
Adelaide looked shocked.
“Do you?” she exclaimed. “Well, of course,” she went on, as if desirous of modifying her evident disapproval, “I daresay it makes a difference when one has not had younger brothers and sisters.”
“Do you love yours so much?” inquired Roma. She felt a lazy pleasure in drawing out this model young lady a little.
“Of course,” replied Miss Chancellor; “Victoria is much younger than I, you know, but we are great friends. I don’t think there is anything she looks forward to as much as to being my bridesmaid. She is rather dark, so I have promised her she shall wear rose colour, or pink, if it is in summer.”
Roma looked astonished. “I didn’t know,” she began, “I had not heard of anything being fixed about your marriage.”