It must be confessed that poor Lulu, who had little money for dress, fell far below the Victoria Square standard. "Looks like a little dressmaker," sneered one of the men.
"A dressmaker would have better clothes," observed Miss Waller. Her eyes dwelt complacently on her niece's graceful figure, as she spoke, and she was pleased to see how close Mr. Lang—who had overtaken them in coming out of church—kept to May's elbow, despite the black looks of Doris, who disliked him. The child was now quite well again, some days having elapsed since the garden party.
"What are you going to do this afternoon. Mrs. Burnside? Will you come for a drive?" presently asked Mr Lang.
But May did not approve of Sunday driving. "I promised to take Doris to the flower service, thank you."
"Why, you've been to church once already, Doris! You'd much better persuade your mother to bring you for a drive with me," cajoled he; but the child burst out, "No, I don't like you, and I don't want to drive with you!" so resolutely that he could not press it.
Miss Waller frowned angrily. "Really, May, the way you spoil Doris is beyond all reason. She is the rudest little girl I ever saw!" And, to soothe the plutocrat's wounded feelings, she insisted upon his coming home to luncheon with her. He was now a constant visitor in Victoria Square, for, having terminated his stay with the Stevensons, he had taken rooms at the principal hotel.
Whilst May, in her costly gown, sat chafing beneath Mr. Lang's glances of insolent admiration, at her aunt's luxuriously appointed table, Harold and Lulu Inglis were very merry and happy over the plainest fare in his bare sitting-room. They had not met for a long time, and a cheap Whitsuntide excursion was the reason of her presence now. As soon as they had finished, they started for the shore. Sitting on a big stone, beneath the shade of the cliffs, they had a delightful chat, until Lulu suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, Harold! Here's that pretty girl in grey we saw this morning!"
Doris, who loved the sea, had coaxed her mother to come down on the shore after the service, and, seeing his companion, May bowed to Harold, and would have passed on, but he detained her. "May I introduce my sister, Miss Lucy Inglis, Mrs. Burnside?"
There was something so frank and friendly about Lulu that very soon, as Doris announced she was tired and wanted to rest, they were all seated upon the big stone, upon which Miss Inglis insisted on spreading her jacket, to protect May's dainty dress. Whilst his sister expatiated on the delights of Beachbourne, and wondered why her raptures evoked so little response from the young widow, Harold sat pondering whether he dare invite Mrs. Burnside to come to tea in his bare and shabby rooms.
To his delight, she instantly accepted the invitation; eager, in truth, to escape from the hated society of Mr. Lang. Harold then turned to Doris, gaily asking whether she would come too.