"I think it is you who are inconsiderate, Maud," she said, very quietly. "Yes, it is absolutely necessary that Annette should not be disappointed. But as your heart seems set on paying these visits, you may have the carriage, and we will manage with a hansom, please say no more about it," as Maud certainly had the grace to look a little ashamed of herself. "Annette will not mind, I am sure. Now, will one of you two girls look after Rodney when he comes down? I want Lottie to finish her practicing before Herr Ludwig comes. Come, Lottie! come, Annette!" and Averil beckoned to them.
As soon as the door closed behind them Lottie burst into an indignant remonstrance. "Oh, Averil, how can you put up with it? It is really too bad of Maud! and for aunt to encourage her in such impertinence!"
"Please, Lottie, dear, let the subject drop," and Averil's mouth had a weary curve. "Time is too precious, and you and I have far too much to do to waste it on such trifles. Annette, do you think you will be dull in my sitting-room? I have my letters to write, and all sorts of business."
"I shall not be dull if I can see you," returned Annette, simply. "Since my mother's death I have worked alone. Alone! Ah, what a bitter word! One is slow in learning it. Often I have forgotten—I have lost myself in some dream. 'Is it so, mother?' I would say, and raise my head. Alas! there were only the dark corners, the empty chair—no answering smile to greet me. Oh, my cousin, I see I make you sad with my little retrospect. But it was only to prove to you that I shall be gay—what you call cheerful—by comparison."
Averil did not answer for a moment—when she next spoke it was to question Annette about the torn lace flounce she was to mend for Lottie.
Annette was eager to begin her task; she wanted to show these dear people that there was something she could do. "It is play to me," she said, with innocent egotism. "You shall see, and Miss Lottie too, that I can work well. 'One need not starve when one has ten fingers,' as poor Clotilde says. Ah! poor Clotilde! she is peeling her onions now, and perhaps saying a prayer for me in her heart. Hold! I am a sad chatter-box. I will not speak again for an hour"—and for a wonder, Annette contrived to keep her word. But though Annette's tongue was silent, her thoughts were busy enough. Again and again she raised her dark eyes from her embroidery, and fixed them on the quiet figure before her, on the grave, intent face, on the small, busy hands, as Averil wrote letters, added up bills, or made entries in her housekeeping book.
CHAPTER VII.
RODNEY MAKES HIS APPEARANCE.
But the morning was not to pass without interruption. The young mistress of Redfern House was evidently a woman of business. First, a stout, comely looking woman demanded admittance, and had a long and evidently a most important interview. Annette, in her sunny corner, could only hear a word or two—mayonnaise, apricot tart, and so on. Evidently Averil was making out the menu. Then, when Mrs. Adams was dismissed, Unwin took her place, and again snatches of conversation reached Annette's ears; they seemed to be discussing some charitable case, for soup and linen were mentioned.