“Mayn’t we go out for a walk till Frank has finished his cigar?” said Sheila.
“You couldn’t go out walking at this time of night,” said Mrs. Kavanagh, in a kindly way, “you would meet the most unpleasant persons. Besides going out into the night air would be most dangerous.”
“It is a beautiful night,” said Sheila, with a sigh. She was still standing at the window.
“Come,” said Mrs. Kavanagh, going over to her, and putting her hand in her arm, “we cannot have any moping, you know. You must be content to be dull with us for one night; and after to-night we shall see what we can do to amuse you.”
“Oh, but I don’t want to be amused!” cried Sheila, almost in terror, for some vision flashed on her mind of a series of parties. “I would much rather be left alone and allowed to go about by myself. But it is very kind of you,” she hastily added, fancying that her speech had been somewhat ungracious—“it is very kind of you, indeed.”
“Come, I promised to teach you cribbage, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Sheila, with much resignation, and she walked to the table, and sat down.
Perhaps, after all, she could have spent the rest of the evening with some little equanimity in patiently trying to learn this game, in which she had no interest whatever, but her thoughts and fancies were soon drawn away from cribbage. Her husband returned. Mrs. Lorraine had been for some little time at the big piano at the other side of the room, amusing herself by playing snatches of anything she happened to remember, but when Mr. Lavender returned she seemed to wake up. He went over to her, and sat down by the piano.
“Here,” she said, “I have all the duets and songs you spoke of, and I am quite delighted with those I have tried. I wish mamma would sing a second to me; how can one learn without practising? And there are some of those duets I really should like to learn after what you have said of them.”
“Shall I become a substitute for your mamma?” he said.