"But she brought in a dead mouse," said the girl, "to excuse herself, I suppose." Schmidt smiled at the touch of humor, but during their first meal was more silent than usual.
"I did not tell thee, Margaret," said Mrs. Swanwick, "that William Westcott was here yesterday at sundown. I have no liking for him. I said thou wert out."
"But I was only in the garden."
"I did say thou wert out, but not in the garden."
Schmidt smiled again as he set his teaspoon across his cup, the conventional sign that he wished no more tea.
Then the girl, with fresh animation, asked eagerly: "Oh, mother, I forgot; am I to have the book Ann Bingham thought delightful, and her father told thee I should read?"
"I am not so minded," replied the mother, and this seemed to end the matter. De Courval listened, amused, as again the girl asked cheerfully:
"Aunt Gainor will be here to take me with her to see some china, mother, at twelve. May I not go?"
"No, not to-day. There is the cider of last fall we must bottle, and I shall want thy help. The last time," she said, smiling, "thou didst fetch home a heathen god—green he was, and had goggle eyes. What would Friend Pennington say to that?"
"But I do not pray to it."