"Oh, yes, Mrs Monnerie—this afternoon; but, as you know, I was a little doubtful about the address." She hastened to pass me a plate of button-sized ratafias; and Mrs Monnerie slowly turned a smiling but not quite ingenuous face aside.
"What a curious experience the circus will be for you, Midgetina," Fanny was murmuring softly, glancing back over her shoulder towards the tea-table. "Personally, I believe the Signorina Angélique and the rest of it is only one of those horrible twisted up prodigies with all the bones out of place. Mightn't it, Mrs Monnerie, be a sort of shock, you know, for Miss M.? She's still a little pale and peaky."
"She shall come, I say, and see for herself," replied Mrs Monnerie petulantly.
There was a pause. Mrs Monnerie gazed vacantly at the tiers of hot-house flowers that decorated the window-recess. Susan sate with a little forked frown between her brows. She never seemed to derive the least enjoyment from this amiable, harmless midget-baiting. Not at any rate one hundredth part as much as I did. Fanny set Plum begging for yet another ratafia. And then, after a long, deep breath, my skin all "gooseflesh," I looked straight across at my old friend.
"I don't think, Mrs Monnerie," I said, "if you don't mind—I don't think I really wish to go."
As if Joshua had spoken, the world stood still.
Mrs Monnerie slowly turned her head. "Another headache?"
"No, I'm perfectly well, thank you. But, whatever I may have said, I don't approve of that poor creature showing herself for—for money. She is selling herself. It must be because there's no other way out."
Finger and thumb outstretched above the cringing little dog, Fanny was steadily watching me. With a jerk of my whole body I turned on her. "You agreed with me, Fanny, didn't you, in the garden yesterday afternoon?"
Placidly drooped her lids: "Trust, Plum, trust!"