"Dear Grandmother!" exclaimed Prue, recovering her self-control, "'tis not fickleness, but simply the result of sound reasoning. I love certain qualities, and while I believed Sir Geoffrey possessed them, I loved him for their sake. I am still faithful to the thing I love; but, unfortunately, Sir Geoffrey has it not, at least, not enough of it for me. But let us not despair; the Duchess of Marlborough is determined to marry me off, and has been graciously pleased to select a husband for me."
"Indeed, and who may he be?"
"I know not; his name is still a secret. I have, indeed, a suspicion that it may be Lord Beachcombe's new-born heir, for she remarked that by the time her choice was ready for presentation to me, I might perhaps be settled down, and sobered sufficiently to make a tolerable wife-of-sorts!"
Peggie, watching her cousin closely, came to the conclusion that she was talking nonsense to keep herself from thinking, and at the first opportunity, coaxed her out of the room and away from the danger of betraying herself to Lady Drumloch, whose keen wits and close observation were the more to be dreaded, the less she displayed them.
As a result of the report of Prue's return to court, and her flattering welcome there, the shabby little drawing-rooms of her grandmother's house were crowded that evening and all next day, by those who hastened to offer congratulations and make excuses for neglect that she was too thorough a woman of the world to resent. The throng of courtiers found her, indeed, most accessible. She had a jest and a compliment and a friendly word for every one. Arch glances and enchanting smiles fell alike on friend and foe; perhaps more especially on the latter, as Prue, for once, attempted to follow her grandmother's instructions, and be wise!
Long after midnight, the tired girls performed the last sweeping curtseys to their parting guests, and leaving the yawning James to extinguish the lights, crawled wearily up the long, narrow stairway to their attic bedrooms. Peggie, bursting with long-suppressed curiosity, offered her services to unlace her cousin from the stiff prison of whalebone and buckram in which her slender form had been encased for so many hours, and unpin the luxuriant curls and puffs from the cushion upon which the hair-dresser had disposed them early in the morning. Prue sighed with relief as Peggie, regardless of her own fatigue, removed the monstrously high-heeled shoes and filmy silken hose, and rubbed her cramped feet until they ceased to tingle and smart with the restored circulation, but vowed she was too tired to talk, and, moreover, had nothing to tell but what Peggie already knew.
"What said Robin, when we left you alone?" Peggie whispered. "Did I keep Sir Geoffrey long enough finding me a chair? I sent three away before I could be satisfied that the chair was clean and the chairman sober."
"Long enough for all we had to say," said Prue pettishly. "Do you suppose we were exchanging vows of eternal fidelity, or arranging for our next meeting?" Then, pathetically, "If you were as tired as I am, Peggie, you would rather be in bed than gossiping, and to-morrow we are going to Lady Limerick's drum, and the play afterward, and want to look our prettiest; so kiss me, dear coz, and get thee to bed."
Nor was she more communicative the next day. From early morning, the house was besieged by a procession of apologetic tradesfolk, eager to explain away their threatening letters and dunning messages, and placing themselves and their wares at the disposal of the reinstated favorite. No talk now of the Fleet and the sponging-house—no more writs and suits—nothing but dapper tailors and coquettish milliners' assistants, suave jewelers and mysterious, ill-shaven foreigners with dirty parcels from which they extracted, under vows of secrecy, laces from France or Flanders, or embroideries from the distant Indies, such as might have tempted the most austere of Eve's daughters to break at least one of the ten commandments.
And in the midst of all this excitement, Lady Prue flitted, bubbling over with mirth and triumph. Her bright presence lighted up the sick-room, and under its influence, Lady Drumloch declared she would be carried down-stairs on Sunday to receive callers, and that before a week was over, she would be strong enough to drive to Kensington Palace and pay her respects at the queen's next drawing-room. She bade Peggie fetch her jewel-casket and try the effect of her antiquated diadems and brooches upon herself and Prue, and spent an hour or two deciding which of them the emeralds would best become, and which one ought to have the amethysts. Finally, however, the matter was left undecided, and except that she bestowed the promised pearls upon Prue and a filagree bracelet upon Margaret, the casket was relentlessly restored intact to its hiding-place.