'And she 'avited us—the little-girl-in-the-bazaar's mother, I mean,' Biddy hastened to add, 'to step into the parlour. I never saw a parlour before; it's not as nice as a droind-room, except for the dear little window up in the wall. Couldn't we have a little window like that in our schoolroom, mamma? And I'm to go another day to see the room; it's not a proper doll-house, she says; only a room, and I said I was sure I might ask her to come here, but she said I must ask my mamma first. I thought at first she was going to be rather a cross sort of a mamma, but I don't think she is—do you, Alie?'
Biddy ran off this long story so fast that Mrs. Vane could only stare at her in amazement.
'My dear Biddy!' she said at last. 'Alie, you were there? You don't mean to say that you let Bride run into the toy-shop people's house and make friends with their children, and—and——' Mrs. Vane stopped short, at a loss for words.
Mr. Vane looked up.
'My dear child,' he said too, to Bridget, 'you must be careful. And here—where everybody is sure to know who you are, and when you should set a good example of nice manners—you must not behave in this wild sort of way.'
'I didn't mean,' began Biddy plaintively.
But this time she was not chidden for her doleful tone—both Alie and Rough came to the rescue.
'Please, mamma, oh please, papa, you don't understand,' began Rosalys.
'It wasn't the bazaar people at all,' said Rough, chiming in; 'it was all right. Only, Biddy, you are really too stupid, the muddley way you tell things——'
'Yes,' agreed Alie, with natural vexation, 'you needn't make it seem as if we had all gone out of our minds, really.'