“Mavis!” she said, “you look as if you had seen her yourself. But it was only a dream, you mustn’t let my old-world stories make you fanciful. I am too fanciful myself perhaps—I have always loved the vest turret, and that was why I chose it for your play-room when you were little dots.”
“I’m so glad you did,” said Mavis, drawing a long breath.
After that they were all rather silent for a while. Then Ruby claimed Miss Hortensia’s promise of the story or description rather of the grand court ball at which her mother’s beauty had made such a sensation, and when that was ended, the little trumpeter announced, much to the children’s displeasure, that it was time to go to bed.
“We have had a cosy evening,” said Mavis, as she kissed Miss Hortensia.
“And, oh Ruby,” she said, as her sister and she were going slowly upstairs, “don’t you wish we might sleep in the turret-room?”
“No indeed,” Ruby replied, in a most decided tone, “I certainly don’t.”