"Sheila, what on earth is the matter? Here, come out into the fresh air. By Jove, how pale you are! Will you have some water?"
He could not get to understand thoroughly what had occurred. What he clearly did learn from Sheila's disjointed and timid explanations was that there had been another "scene," and he knew that of all things in the world his aunt hated "scenes" the worst. As soon as he saw that there was little the matter with Sheila beyond considerable mental perturbation, he could not help addressing some little remonstrance to her, and reminding her how necessary it was that she should not offend the old lady up stairs.
"You should not be so excitable, Sheila," he said. "You take such exaggerated notions about things. I am sure my aunt meant nothing unkind. And what did you say when you came away?"
"I said I wanted to see you. Are you angry with me?"
"No, of course not. But then, you see, it is a little vexing just at this moment. Well, let us go up stairs at once, and try and make up some excuse, like a good girl. Say you felt faint—anything."
"And you will come with me?"
"Yes. Now do try, Sheila, to make friends with my aunt. She's not such a bad sort of creature as you seem to think. She's been very kind to me—she'll be very kind to you when she knows you more."
Fortunately, no excuse was necessary, for Mrs. Lavender, in Sheila's absence, had arrived at the conclusion that the girl's temporary faintness was due to that piece of Roquefort.
"You see you must be careful," she said when they entered the room. "You are unaccustomed to a great many things you will like afterward."
"And the room is a little close," said Lavender.