Here the girl interrupted.
“You are busy arranging your flowers,” she said. “May we look at the conservatory? Perhaps, papa, Miss Percy can tell us all we want to know?”
And before I knew where I was she had crossed the room, not seeming even to see that it was in a mess, and we were all three standing in the conservatory, which, of course, though rather untidy, did not look nearly so bad as the drawing-room.
“How pretty your flowers are!” she went on, and one could see that she meant it. “Papa, do look at those begonias—but—shouldn’t we introduce ourselves first?” And she gave a nice little kind sort of laugh.
“I know who you are,” I said, as I awkwardly rubbed my hands on my apron to clean them from the mould. “I—I can’t shake hands—but—it’s all my fault that the fire isn’t lighted, and the room so messy. Mamma will be very vexed—she’s always ready as early as this to see any one.”
“We have unfortunately lost the address of the ‘odd man’ that Dr Percy was so good as to give us, and we find ourselves sadly in want of his services already,” said Captain Whyte. “There are one or two other points we should be grateful for a little advice about, too, but these can wait.”
I was beginning to recover my presence of mind a little by this time, though with it, alas! an increased feeling of mortification.
“I will fetch mamma,” I began; but Captain Whyte interrupted: “Please don’t disturb her,” he said.
I felt more and more vexed.