“Still, I don’t quite understand. Do you mean, Walter, that you have offered my stall to Norah—to my sister Norah?”
“Yes—that’s it—exactly what I do mean. It’s clear enough, don’t you know. Don’t see where the difficulty comes in, ’pon my word. Only I don’t quite see why you should call it your stall, really! I paid for it.”
“You paid for it? I see. And did you offer my gloves—these gloves, to Norah also?”
“That’s all right. I wanted her to have them; but as she has a really decent sort of hand, they’re miles too small for her, so as I know they’ll be all right for you, you may as well have them. Don’t you worry about that a little bit.”
She looked about her with an air of bewilderment as if seeking an explanation from someone, somewhere. Her face had quite altered during the few moments she had been in the room. Even her voice had changed, it seemed to have grown husky. I knew that she was really fond of Mr Hammond. He had been in the habit of prostrating himself in the dust at her feet. It must have been a dreadful wrench to have been spoken to by him like that.
“I suppose that there is a joke somewhere; but I’m so dull that I don’t see where. Norah, has Mr Hammond really done as he says? What have you been doing?”
She favoured me with an accusatory glance, as if I had been guilty of the blackest crimes. Audrey came to my rescue.
“To do her justice, so far as I have seen, Norah has been doing nothing. Norah has been sitting mumchance; scarcely saying boo! to a goose, as if she were on prickles. The men appear to have done all the doing—unless they have been indulging in an elaborate practical joke, at her expense, and ours, which they have already carried too far to be in the best of taste. It may be funny, in its way, which is not a pretty one.”
Eveleen was continuing to glare at me, as if she would have liked her eyes to have scorched my face.
“Are you going with Mr Hammond?”