Part 48

“Haven’t you?” said I to Miss Phyllis.

I expected an indignant denial. So did Mrs. Hilary, for she remarked with a sympathetic air:

“Never mind his folly, Phyllis dear.”

“Haven’t you, Miss Phyllis?” said I.

Miss Phyllis grew very red. Fearing that I was causing her pain, I was about to observe on the prospects of a Dissolution when a shy smile spread over Miss Phyllis’s face.

“Yes, once,” said she with a timid glance at Mrs. Hilary, who immediately laid down her embroidery.

“Out with it,” I cried, triumphantly. “Come along, Miss Phyllis. We won’t tell, honor bright!”

Miss Phyllis looked again at Mrs. Hilary. Mrs. Hilary is human:

“Well, Phyllis, dear,” said she, “after all this time I shouldn’t think it my duty--”

“It only happened last summer,” said Miss Phyllis.

Mrs. Hilary looked rather put out.

“Still,” she began.

“We must have the story,” said I.

Little Miss Phyllis put down the sock she had been knitting.

“I was very naughty,” she remarked. “It was my last term at school.”

“I know that age,” said I to Hilary.

“My window looked out towards the street. You’re sure you won’t tell? Well, there was a house opposite--”

“And a young man in it,” said I.

“How did you know that?” asked Miss Phyllis, blushing immensely.

“No girls’ school can keep up its numbers without one,” I explained.

“Well, there was, anyhow,” said Miss Phyllis. “And I and two other girls went to a course of lectures at the Town Hall on literature or something of that kind. We used to have a shilling given us for our tickets.”

“Precisely,” said I. “A hundred pounds!”

“No, a shilling,” corrected Miss Phyllis. “A hundred pounds! How absurd, Mr. Carter! Well, one day I--I--”

“You’re sure you wish to go on, Phyllis?” asked Mrs. Hilary.

“You’re afraid, Mrs. Hilary,” said I severely.

“Nonsense, Mr. Carter. I thought Phyllis might--”

“I don’t mind going on,” said Miss Phyllis, smiling. “One day I--I lost the other girls.”

“The other girls are always easy to lose,” I observed.