“My! but you're battered!” exclaimed Miss Peter, in a whisper that was unheard by Flora.
Pinky only answered by a grimace. Then she said to Flora, with well-affected concern,
“I'm afraid you are ill, dear? How do you feel?”
“I don't know,” answered the poor girl, in a voice that betrayed great anxiety, if not alarm. “It came over me all at once. I'm afraid that wine was too strong; I am not used to taking anything.”
“Oh dear, no! it wasn't that. I drank a glass, and don't feel it any more than if it had been water.”
“Let's go,” said Flora, starting up. “Mrs. Bray must be home by this time.”
“All right, if you feel well enough,” returned Pinky, rising at the same time.
“Oh dear! how my head swims!” exclaimed Flora, putting both hands to her temples. She stood for a few moments in an uncertain attitude, then reached out in a blind, eager way.
Pinky drew quickly to her side, and put one arm about her waist.
“Come,” she said, “the air is too close for you here;” and with the assistance of the girl who had joined them, she steadied Flora down stairs.