Annette acknowledged the introduction with rather a haughty bend of her head—the little lace-mender had her pride. These Seymours were not gracious in their reception of her. Each one in turn had informed her by their manner that she was an unwelcome guest. Good; she would keep herself to herself; they should not be inconvenienced by her. A naughty little sparkle came into Annette's brown eyes.
"If it please you, my cousin, I will take a turn in that pleasant garden," she said, rather primly. "I have finished the sprig, and Miss Jones will not know where it has been mended, and then I shall be in no one's way."
"Please do not disturb yourself on my account, Miss Ramsay," began Rodney.
But Annette did not give him time to finish. She had had enough of these Seymours, she told herself, as she brushed a thread or two from her black dress. She did not even wait for Averil's permission, but ran down the steps, followed by the black poodle, who was enchanted at the prospect of a game. Annette had never found out that she had a temper till that minute. "One must grow tall to stand on tiptoe with these English," she said, with a little toss of her head, as she walked down the shrubbery.
Rodney lolled against the window-frame and watched her rather lazily. "What a very energetic young person!" he muttered. Then aloud, "It must be an awful bore for you, Averil, having a poor relative turning up in this unexpected fashion."
"I am not so sure that Annette will prove a bore," replied Averil, rather coolly. "I am very pleased with the little I have seen of her. In spite of poverty and hard work, she seems to have a great deal of refinement. She is clever and amusing, and I have discovered that she is an excellent companion."
"Indeed! The girls did not seem much impressed by her at breakfast. It is a pity she is not better-looking. She has a half-starved sort of appearance. But if you are pleased, and all that—"
"Rodney!" a little impatiently, "did you come to my room to discuss my cousin's merits and demerits?"
"No, indeed. How sharp you are, Averil! You are always down on a fellow before he can get a word in. There is no particular hurry, is there?" fingering the rosebud in his button-hole in a way that provoked Averil.
"No hurry for you," rather sarcastically; "but if you will excuse me for mentioning it, I am very much pressed for time myself, so please let me know what you want as quickly as possible."