"A creature not too bright and good,
For human nature's daily food,"
and she had her girlish weaknesses. Not that she envied Waveney her flowers; but, as she sniffed them delightedly, her imagination conjured up numberless bouquets for Miss Mollie Ward; only the donor must be tall and fair, not a little dark Frenchified artist like Monsieur Blackie.
Waveney chatted to her father quite gaily until they had crossed the lime avenue, and had reached the landing-stage. Then they walked a little way down the embankment, and sat down on a bench under a shady tree. It was still early, and there were few passengers; only now and then a river steamer passed, churning the blue water into light, foamy waves. Two or three children were bowling their hoops, followed by a panting pug.
Waveney cleared her voice rather nervously; then she slid her hand into her father's arm. Everard could see the worn little glove fingers on his coat sleeve; he stared at the white seams dreamily as he listened. He was a man who noticed trifles; there was a feminine element in his character. That little shabby grey glove appealed to him forcibly.
"Father, dear, I have something to tell you—that is why I did not want Mollie to come; it is so much easier to talk about difficult things to only one person." Waveney's voice was not as clear as usual. "Will you promise to listen, dearest, without interrupting me?" Mr. Ward nodded, but his face was a little grave. What could the child have to say?
Waveney told her story very fully. She gave her father a description of the Red House and Fairy Magnificent, but she never mentioned Miss Harford's name; she spoke of them vaguely as "the ladies."
"And you have settled all this without speaking to me?" and there was a hurt look on Mr. Ward's face. Then Waveney nestled closer to him.
"Father, dear, I wanted to tell you—I want to tell you everything; but you were so tired, and I thought it would be kinder to wait until I had spoken to the ladies."
"The ladies. What ladies? Have they no name?" he asked, irritably.
"Yes, dear, of course they have," returned the girl, gently. "Their name is Harford."