“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 to 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 is 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.
“I don’t think so,” said his aunt, sharply; “look at the barometer.”
“I didn’t mean for you and me, Aunt Caroline,” he said, “but for her. Sheila has been accustomed to live almost wholly in the open air.”
“The open air in moderation is an excellent thing. I go out myself every afternoon, wet or dry. And I was going to propose, Frank, that you should leave her here with me for the afternoon, and come back and dine with us at seven. I am going out at four-thirty, and she could go with me.”