Chapter 26 - Page 2

seated," I said
coldly, but she remained standing, all in a twitter and very much
afraid of me, and I know that her hands were pressed together
within the muff. Had there been any dignified means of escape, I
think we would both have taken it.

"I should not have come," she said nervously, and then seemed to
wait for some response, so I bowed.

"I was terrified to come, indeed I was," she assured me with
obvious sincerity.

"But I have come," she finished rather baldly.

"It is an epitome, ma'am," said I, seeing my chance, "of your
whole life," and with that I put her into my elbow-chair.

She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and
of some little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have
done for her when I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as
soft as her muff. She had also an affecting way of pronouncing
all her r's as w's, just as the fairies do. "And so," she said,
"as you would not come to me to be thanked, I have come to you to
thank you." Whereupon she thanked me most abominably. She also
slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though she was smiling
her eyes were wet.

"Pooh, ma'am," said I in desperation, but I did not take her
hand.

"I am not very strong yet," she said with low cunning. She said
this to make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted
it a little. Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth
is, I begun to think uncomfortably of the dedication.

I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to
address her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something
that would sting her.

"When you have quite done, ma'am," I said, after a long pause,
"perhaps you will allow me to say a word."

I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's
face, that she had given him a quick look which did not imply
that she was stung. Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before,
that though she was agitated and in some fear of me, she was also
enjoying herself considerably.

In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand-
bank, so I said, rather off my watch, "If I have done all this
for you, why did I do it?"

She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the
chair, so that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this
that she was now holding herself conceitedly and trying to look
modest. "Not a bit of it, ma'am," said I sharply, "that was not
the reason at all."

I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last.

"I never said it was," she