"It is n't the one," she cried. "It is much too big. Oh, he did it on purpose. What shall I do?"
It was quite evident that she could not long remain in such abbreviated attire without being detected by some one.
A vigorous pull at the skirt now limply pendant from the prisoning drawer proved that it was just as impossible to release it when vacated by its owner as when it adorned her person. In fact, Bessie's brilliant idea had availed her not in the least, and, realizing this, she was about to step into the skirt with a view to assuming her shackling finery, when the sound of her tormentor's voice, singing softly to himself as he approached, gave her warning of his coming.
With a little gasp of alarm Bessie fled to the cover of the portières which separated the window recess from the room and sheltered by their clinging folds waited for developments.
Chapter Seventeen
HONORS ARE EASY
The poet strode gayly into the room, quite at peace with the world and decidedly pleased with one Thomas Moore, in both these particulars holding opinions widely differing from the views cherished by the young lady concealed behind the curtains.
"What?" remarked Moore. "Is she gone? Dear me, how unkind of her to go without saying good-bye."
Then, apparently observing the skirt for the first time, he continued:
"Ah, she has left this behind for me as a souvenir of the occasion. How considerate of her."