'He did not say he wouldn't, Prudentia,' remarked her sister.
'He didn't say he would,' returned Mrs. Coles, with a peculiar laugh; 'and I knew what that meant. O, I should have got there some time. I will yet.'
Miss Kennedy bowed—she believed the fault must be hers. But she had not quite understood—or had confused things—in her press of engagements.
Mrs. Coles graciously assumed that there had been no failure in that quarter. And Dr. Maryland came in, and the dinner. A nice little square party they were, for Dr. Arthur was not at home; and yet somehow the conversation flowed in more barren channels than was ever the wont at that table in Wych Hazel's experience. A great deal of talk was about what people were doing; a little about what they were wearing; an enormous amount about what they were saying. Part of this seemed to be religious talk too, and yet what was the matter with it? Or was it with Wych Hazel that something was the matter? Primrose and Dr. Maryland then shared the trouble, for whatever they said was in attempted diversion or correction or emendation. Certainly among them all the talk did not languish.
There came a pause for a short space after dinner, when Dr. Maryland had gone back to his study. Then there was a demand for Primrose; one of her Sunday school children wanted her. Wych Hazel and Mrs. Coles were left alone. Mrs. Coles changed her seat for one nearer the young lady.
'I have been really anxious to see you, my dear Miss Kennedy,' she began, benignly.
'Some one of my escapades has reached her ears!' thought the young lady to herself; 'now if I can give her a good, harmless, mental shock,—just to bear it out!—I certainly will.—That sounds very kind,' she said aloud.
'Yes,—you know I heard so much about you when you were a child, and your connection with this house, and all;—and your whole romantic story; and now when I learned that you were grown up and here again, I really wanted to see you and see how you looked. I must, you know,' she added, with her peculiar smile.
There was so much in these words that was incomprehensible, that Wych Hazel for the moment was at a loss for any answer at all; and waited for what would come next, with eyes rather larger than usual. Mrs. Coles went on, scanning her carefully as she spoke, that same smile, half flattering, half assuming, wreathing her lips.
'I did want very much to see you—I was curious, and I am. Do tell me—how does it feel to have two guardians? I should think, you know, that one would be enough for comfort; and the other is sure to be a jealous guardian. Perhaps you don't mind it,' added Mrs. Coles, with a face so amiable, that if Wych Hazel had been a cat it would have certainly provoked a spring.