'They very often do it in real life,' said Mr. Falkirk gravely.
'Well, sir?—then why cannot they be left to take care of themselves, either way? It is such fudge!' she said, walking back to her place and energetically dropping sugar in her own cup.
'Who is Mme. Lasalle trying to take care of?'
'Me, last, sir. Warning me that things laughed at become dangerous. In which case I shall lead a tolerably risky life.'
'Who is Mme. Lasalle warning you against?' demanded Mr.
Falkirk hastily.
'My dear sir, how excited you are over poor Mme. Lasalle! I presumed to laugh at some of her fancy sketches, and then of course she rapped me over the knuckles. Or meant it!' said Miss Hazel, slightly lifting her eyebrows.
'But I observe you do not answer me, my dear.'
'No, sir,—if you will allow me to use my own judgment, I think I had better not. Let me have your cup, Mr. Falkirk please, and I'll put more sugar in this time.'
Mr. Falkirk finished his tea and made no more observations. He was silent and thoughtful,—moody, his ward might have fancied him,—while the tea-things were cleared away, and afterwards pored over the newspaper and did not read it. At last, when silence had reigned some time, he lifted his head up and turned round to where Wych Hazel sat.
'I have been considering a difficulty, Miss Hazel; will you help me out?'