Chapter 30

On the Housetop

'Picotee, are you asleep?' Ethelberta whispered softly at dawn the next morning, by the half-opened door of her sister's bedroom.

'No, I keep waking, it is so warm.'

'So do I. Suppose we get up and see the sun rise. The east is filling with flame.'

'Yes, I should like it,' said Picotee.

The restlessness which had brought Ethelberta hither in slippers and dressing-gown at such an early hour owed its origin to another cause than the warmth of the weather; but of that she did not speak as yet. Picotee's room was an attic, with windows in the roof--a chamber dismal enough at all times, and very shadowy now. While Picotee was wrapping up, Ethelberta placed a chair under the window, and mounting upon this they stepped outside, and seated themselves within the parapet.

The air was as clear and fresh as on a mountain side; sparrows chattered, and birds of a species unsuspected at later hours could be heard singing in the park hard by, while here and there on ridges and flats a cat might be seen going calmly home from the devilries of the night to resume the amiabilities of the day.

'I am so sorry I was asleep when you reached home,' said Picotee. 'I was so anxious to tell you something I heard of, and to know what you did; but my eyes would shut, try as I might, and then I tried no longer. Did you see me at all, Berta?'

'Never once. I had an impression that you were there. I fancied you were from father's carefully vacuous look whenever I glanced at his face. But were you careful about what you said, and did you see Menlove? I felt all the time that I had done wrong in letting you come; the gratification to you was not worth the risk to me.'

'I saw her, and talked to her. But I am certain she suspected nothing. I enjoyed myself very much, and there was no risk at all.'

'I am glad it is no worse news. However, you must not go there again: upon that point I am determined.'

'It was a good thing I did go, all the same. I'll tell you why when you have told me what happened to you.'

'Nothing of importance happened to me.'

'I expect you got to know the lord you were to meet?'

'O yes--Lord Mountclere.'

'And it's dreadful how fond he is of you--quite ridiculously taken up with you--I saw that well enough. Such an old man, too; I wouldn't have him for the world!'

'Don't jump at conclusions so absurdly, Picotee. Why wouldn't you have him for the world?'

'Because he is old enough to be my grandfather, and yours too.'

'Indeed he is not; he is only middle-aged.'

'O Berta! Sixty-five at least.'

'He may or may not be that; and if he is, it is not old. He is so entertaining that one forgets all about age in connection with him.'

'He laughs like this--"Hee-hee-hee!"' Picotee introduced as much antiquity into her face as she