"Let me see," murmured Dolly, with a vast pretence of considering, though her little ears were scarlet by this time. "Where did I meet Mr. Philip? Of course, I met him at the station. But however did you know?" she asked, with the utmost effrontery.
"When one sheep, Dorothy, jumps over a gap, all the flock follow. Four of my curates being so busily engaged meeting my ward, I had little doubt but that the fifth was as well occupied."
Unseen by him, she made a face at Granny, who was understood to say that boys would be boys.
"And sheep, sheep!" retorted the Archdeacon, with sharpness.
"They did not tell me that they had come to meet me," said Dolly, rebelliously. She did not like that proverb--or whatever it was--about sheep.
The Archdeacon frowned. "No," he said, severely, "but I do not doubt that you would have been better pleased with them if they had. Let me speak to you seriously, Dorothy. I cannot--I really cannot--have you distracting these young men in this way. I observed before you left several little matters of this kind--little laxities, and a want of energy and punctuality, on their part that were due, I fear, to your influence."
"Little laxities!" murmured she, "I never heard of such things." But he put her aside with a grand wave of his hand.
"I am not inclined to say it is altogether your fault. You cannot help your looks or your youth, but you can avoid being a hindrance instead of an assistance in the parish. I must not suffer,"--he was working himself into a well-regulated passion--"my arrangements to be disorganized even by you. I will not and I cannot say, were this to go on, what steps it might not be my duty, however painful, to take."
After uttering this tremendous threat the Archdeacon walked hastily across the room, and, turning, looked to see what effect it had had upon his ward. She was playing with her tea-spoon, tapping petulantly with her foot, reddening, and pouting, and glancing for sympathy at Granny; behaving altogether like a naughty school-girl under reproof. He took another turn, feeling that he did well--thoroughly well, to be angry; and looked again. She had risen, and was leaving the room. He could only see her back. I don't know what it was--perhaps he could not tell himself--in the pose of her little head and her shoulders, or whether it was something quite outside her--which made him step after her, and touch her shoulder gently.
"There, there!" he said, staying her kindly. "My scolding has not been very dreadful, Dorothy. We must be good friends again. Will you please to give me my second cup, and then I will go back and finish--my other sermon."