Crystal was thinking much the same as she entered the room rather quietly that May evening—so quietly, indeed, that Fern was not conscious of her presence till she pat her hand on her shoulder with a light laugh.
“Asleep, or only dreaming with your eyes open, Fern. What is the matter, little one?”
“Oh, Crystal, how you startled me,” exclaimed Fern, turning crimson under Crystal’s sharp scrutiny. “What made you come in so noiselessly? I never even heard your footsteps. Yes, I was dreaming, I believe,” pushing back her hair with rather a tired gesture. “Fluff was sleepy and went to bed, and mother had to help Miss Martingale with the accounts, and one gets stupid sitting alone.”
“I never heard you say that before,” rather incredulously; “you are the brightest girl I know, Fern; your mother’s name ‘Little Sunshine’ just suits you; you always seem to me the very essence of sunshine.”
“Oh, one must be dull and stupid sometimes,” returned Fern, with a suspicion of tears in her voice. “Never mind about me; tell me about your afternoon, Crystal; have you enjoyed yourself?”
“Yes—no—well, the children did. The flowers were beautiful and the gardens so pretty, and there were plenty of gayly dressed people there. Oh, by the bye, I saw Mr. Huntingdon; he was walking with such a handsome girl.”
Fern felt an odd choking sensation in her throat. “You must have been mistaken, Crystal; Mr. Erle has been sitting with us.”
“Oh, yes, he told us so, for of course he came up to speak to me when Miss Selby had joined her friends; they came in very late, just as we were leaving.”
“And—and—it was Miss Selby?”
“Yes, and her aunt, Lady Maltravers; and they had other people with them. I liked the look of Miss Selby; she has a nice frank face. I think she looks charming, and she walks so well too. I do like a girl to hold herself well.”