"Does he paint, Vievie?" called Dolores. "Is this a picture of your
Crusoe coast?"
"No, dear. I bought that in New York. But it is very like the place where Tom—"
"'Tom'!" reproached Mrs. Gantry. She looked around at her daughter.
"Dolores, I presumed you left us when I ordered you."
"Oh, no, not 'ordered,' mamma. You said 'may,' not 'must.'"
"Leave the room!"
The girl sauntered down towards the arched opening into the rear drawing-room. As she passed the others, she paused to pat her cousin's soft brown hair.
"I do believe the sun has burnt it a shade lighter, Vievie," she remarked. "What fun it must have been! When are you going to show me that leopard-skin gown?"
"Leave the room this instant!" commanded Mrs. Gantry.
Dolores crossed her hands on her bosom and crept out with an air of martyred innocence. Her mother turned to Genevieve for sympathy. "That girl! I don't know what ever I shall do with her—absolutely irrepressible! These titled Englishmen are so particular—she is your cousin."
Genevieve colored slightly. "You should know Lord Avondale better. If he is at all interested—"