Part 53

“I quite agree with you, Lady Mickleham.”

“Besides, I didn’t know anything about him then. He had only arrived that day, you see.”

“Really we were not to blame,” I urged.

“Oh, but doesn’t it seem funny?”

“A strange whirligig, no doubt,” I mused.

There was a pause. Then the faintest of smiles appeared on Dolly’s face.

“He shouldn’t have worn such clothes,” she said, as though in self defense. “Anybody would have looked absurd in them.”

“It was all the clothes,” I agreed. “Besides, when a man doesn’t know a place, he always moons about and looks--”

“Yes. Rather awkward, doesn’t he, Mr. Carter?”

“And the mere fact of his looking at you--”

“At us, please.”

“Is nothing, although we made a grievance of it at the time.”

“That was very absurd of you,” said Dolly.

“It was certainly unreasonable of us,” said I.

“We ought have known he was a gentleman.”

“But we scouted the idea of it,” said I.

“It was a most curious mistake to make,” said Dolly.

“O, well, it’s put right now,” said I.

“Oh, Mr. Carter, do you remember mamma’s face when we described him?”

“That was a terrible moment,” said I, with a shudder.

“I said he was--ugly,” whispered Dolly.

“And I said--something worse,” murmured I.

“And mamma knew at once from our description that it was--”

“She saw it in a minute,” said I.

“And then you went away.”

“Well, I rather suppose I did,” said I.

“Mamma is just a little like the Dowager sometimes,” said Dolly.

“There is a touch now and then,” I conceded.