"The air is very fine," said Mr. Carleton, approaching her table, with no want of alacrity in step or tone, her ears knew; "and this weather makes everything beautiful. Has that piece of canvas any claims upon you that cannot be put aside for a little?"
"No, Sir," said Fleda, "but, I am sorry I have a stronger reason that must keep me at home."
"She knows how the weather looks," said Edith; "Mr. Thorn takes her out every other day. It's no use to talk to her, Mr. Carleton when she says she wont, she wont."
"Every other day!" said Fleda.
"No, no," said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up, and with that smile which Fleda had never liked so little as at that minute "not every other day, Edith; what are you talking of? Go, and don't keep Mr. Carleton waiting."
Fleda worked on, feeling a little aggrieved. Mr. Carleton stood still by her table, watching her, while his companions were getting themselves ready; but he said no more, and Fleda did not raise her head till the party were off. Florence had taken her resigned place.
"I dare say the weather will be quite as fine to-morrow, dear
Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn, softly.
"I hope it will," said Fleda, in a tone of resolute simplicity.
"I only hope it will not bring too great a throng of carriages to the door," Mrs. Evelyn went on, in a tone of great internal amusement; "I never used to mind it, but I have lately a nervous fear of collisions."
"To-morrow is not your reception-day?" said Fleda.