CHAPTER XI.
THE trim little maid-servant ran upstairs from her modest little kitchen, trembling at the terrible prospect of having to open the door. Miss Pink, deafened by the barking, had just time to say, “What a very ill-behaved dog!” when a sound of small objects overthrown in the hall, and a scurrying of furious claws across the oil-cloth, announced that Tommie had invaded the house. As the servant appeared, introducing Lady Lydiard, the dog ran in. He made one frantic leap at Isabel, which would certainly have knocked her down but for the chair that happened to be standing behind her. Received on her lap, the faithful creature half smothered her with his caresses. He barked, he shrieked, in his joy at seeing her again. He jumped off her lap and tore round and round the room at the top of his speed; and every time he passed Miss Pink he showed the whole range of his teeth and snarled ferociously at her ankles. Having at last exhausted his superfluous energy, he leaped back again on Isabel’s lap, with his tongue quivering in his open mouth—his tail wagging softly, and his eye on Miss Pink, inquiring how she liked a dog in her drawing-room!
“I hope my dog has not disturbed you, ma’am?” said Lady Lydiard, advancing from the mat at the doorway, on which she had patiently waited until the raptures of Tommie subsided into repose.
Miss Pink, trembling between terror and indignation, acknowledged Lady Lydiard’s polite inquiry by a ceremonious bow, and an answer which administered by implication a dignified reproof. “Your Ladyship’s dog does not appear to be a very well-trained animal,” the ex-schoolmistress remarked.
“Well trained?” Lady Lydiard repeated, as if the expression was perfectly unintelligible to her. “I don’t think you have had much experience of dogs, ma’am.” She turned to Isabel, and embraced her tenderly. “Give me a kiss, my dear—you don’t know how wretched I have been since you left me.” She looked back again at Miss Pink. “You are not, perhaps, aware, ma’am, that my dog is devotedly attached to your niece. A dog’s love has been considered by many great men (whose names at the moment escape me) as the most touching and disinterested of all earthly affections.” She looked the other way, and discovered the lawyer. “How do you do, Mr. Troy? It’s a pleasant surprise to find you here The house was so dull without Isabel that I really couldn’t put off seeing her any longer. When you are more used to Tommie, Miss Pink, you will understand and admire him. You understand and admire him, Isabel—don’t you? My child! you are not looking well. I shall take you back with me, when the horses have had their rest. We shall never be happy away from each other.”
Having expressed her sentiments, distributed her greetings, and defended her dog—all, as it were, in one breath—Lady Lydiard sat down by Isabel’s side, and opened a large green fan that hung at her girdle. “You have no idea, Miss Pink, how fat people suffer in hot weather,” said the old lady, using her fan vigorously.
Miss Pink’s eyes dropped modestly to the ground—“fat” was such a coarse word to use, if a lady must speak of her own superfluous flesh! “May I offer some refreshment?” Miss Pink asked, mincingly. “A cup of tea?”
Lady Lydiard shook her head.
“A glass of water?”