‘She will do some damage here to-night you will find,’ continued Menlove. ‘How long have you been with her?’
‘O, a long time—I mean rather a short time,’ stammered Picotee.
‘I know her well enough. I was her maid once, or rather her mother-in-law’s, but that was long before you knew her. I did not by any means find her so lovable as you seem to think her when I had to do with her at close quarters. An awful flirt—awful. Don’t you find her so?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If you don’t yet you will know. But come down from your perch—the dining-room door will not be open again for some time—and I will show you about the rooms upstairs. This is a larger house than Mrs. Petherwin’s, as you see. Just come and look at the drawing-rooms.’
Wishing much to get rid of Menlove, yet fearing to offend her, Picotee followed upstairs. Dinner was almost over by this time, and when they entered the front drawing-room a young man-servant and maid were there rekindling the lights.
‘Now let’s have a game of cat-and-mice,’ said the maid-servant cheerily. ‘There’s plenty of time before they come up.’
‘Agreed,’ said Menlove promptly. ‘You will play, will you not, Miss Chickerel?’
‘No, indeed,’ said Picotee, aghast.
‘Never mind, then; you look on.’