“Of course,” interrupted Mrs Chancellor. “Dear me, that makes it worse and worse! How could Adelaide and Fraser be so stupid? But there is her white tulle. I do believe there would be time to alter the trimming, and it is a lovely dress. Would you, dearest Gertrude, mind coming up with me to look at it? I should be so thankful for your opinion.”
Dearest Gertrude had no objection, and as the two ladies passed along the corridor upstairs, they met Roma coming out of her own room with a book in her hand.
“Can you tell me where the second volume of ‘Arrows in the Dark,’ is to be found, Gertrude?” she asked innocently, as they passed her.
The slight noise near the window of the boudoir had not after all been Roma’s fancy. Eavesdropping was in fashion to-day at Winsley.
When Captain Chancellor had driven Lady Exyton safely home again from the meet, and deposited her at the hall door, she begged him to go round with the ponies to the stable to explain to her groom a little matter in the harness requiring immediate adjustment. His errand accomplished, he strolled back to the house again by a roundabout route through the terrace garden. Here he suddenly came upon his niece, intently engaged in ascertaining how many new little worms she could chop up one big one into, her nursemaid, seated on a garden bench at a little distance, being safely engrossed with crochet.
“What are you doing, you nasty cruel little girl?” exclaimed Beauchamp, in considerable disgust.
In a general way Floss rather affected her uncle: such an address, however, roused all her latent ire.
“I ain’t nasty. And you’re cwueller to shoot pwetty birds and bunnies. Worms is ugly, and they doesn’t mind cutting,” she replied, defiantly.
“How do you know? You wouldn’t like to be chopped up into little bits, would you?” remonstrated Captain Chancellor, with a vague feeling that somewhere in his memory, could he but lay hold of it, there was a verse of one of Dr Watts’s hymns appropriate to quote on the occasion.
“No,” returned Floss calmly, “I wouldn’t, ’cause I’m not a worm. Worms doesn’t mind. I know they doesn’t. I know lots of things,” she continued, mysteriously peeping up into her uncle’s face with her green eyes; “lots and lots that nobody more knows.”