"And you mustn't talk to me as if I were a duchess merely because Mr. Cayley is present. I have asked him to dine with us. You must speak to me as you are speaking now."
"Oh, no, my dear, it would never do," said the practical Nelly, with a wise shake of the head. "If you don't remember who you are, I must. You are a fine lady; I am an actress. If you ask me to visit you, it is because you wish me to amuse you. But when I'm not amusing you, I must be respectful. Mr. Cayley knows who I am; the servants don't. I can be grand to them; but with him——"
"My absurd girl, why won't you be yourself? You don't need to care for Mr. Cayley, or the servants, or any one else. Mr. Cayley knows I was an actress; if the servants don't, they will very soon. And you are here merely as my friend; and I am deeply indebted to you for coming; and if Mr. Melton will only refrain from changing the pieces for weeks to come, we shall have a pleasant romp together down here. By the way, did you hear some absurd noises a few minutes ago?"
"I did."
"That was my first token of popularity. I had the lodge-keeper's children up here to tea; and as they all got a lump of cake when they went away, they collected round the door outside and cheered. I think they call that intimidation and bribery—buying the popular vote, or something of the kind."
During dinner an obvious battle was being waged between Nelly and the butler. But the official and cumbrous dignity of the one was no match for the splendid and haughty languor of Nelly's eyes, and the indolent indifference of her manner and tone. Somehow the notice of the servants was chiefly drawn to Miss Featherstone; but she decidedly managed to conquer them, and that in a style which puzzled and amused her friend at the head of the table. Nor would Nelly permit the least familiarity of approach on the part of her hostess. And as it would have been preposterous to have chatted confidentially with a person who returned these advances with a marked deference and respect, "my lady" fell into her friend's whim, and the conversation at dinner was consequently somewhat peculiar.
When the two women were left alone, however, Annie Brunel strongly remonstrated. But Nelly was firm:
"If you don't know who you are, I do."
Drawing two low easy-chairs in towards the fire, they sat down and entered into mutual confidences. The one had much to tell—the other much to suggest; and never had two children more delight in planning what they would do if they were emperors, than had these two girls in concocting plots for the benefit of all the persons they knew, and a great many more.
Miss Brunel took a note from her pocket, and gave it to her companion to read.