r shoulder, laughed mischievously at
Maurice, who was siting behind her. Then, leaning forward in her chair,
with every eye upon her, she told how Maurice had saved her music from
the wind, and, with an arch face, made him appear very ridiculous. By
her prettily exaggerated description of a heated, perspiring young man,
darting to and fro, and muttering to himself in German, her hearers,
Maurice included, were highly diverted--and no one more than Mrs.
Cayhill.
"You puss, you puss!" she cried, wiping her eyes and shaking a finger
at the naughty girl.
The general amusement had hardly subsided when Furst rose to his feet,
and, drawing his heels together, made a flowery little speech, the gist
of which was, that he would have esteemed himself a most fortunate man,
had he been in Maurice's place. Ephie and her mother exchanged looks,
and shook with ill-concealed mirth, so that Furst, who had spoken
seriously and in good faith, sat down red and uncomfortable; and
Boehmer, who was dressed in what he believed to be American fashion,
smiled in a superior manner, to show he was aware that Furst was making
himself ridiculous.
"Look here, Miss Ephie," said James; "the next time you have to go out
alone, just send for me, and I'll take care of you."
"Or me" said Dove. "You have only to let me know."
"No, no, Mr. Dove!" cried Mrs. Cayhill. "You do far too much for her as
it is. You'll spoil her altogether."
But at this, several of the young men exclaimed loudly: that would be
impossible. And Ephie coloured becomingly, raised her lashes, and
distributed winning smiles. Then quiet had been restored, she assured
them that they all very kind, but she would never let anyone go with
her but Joan--dear old Joan. They could not imagine how fond she was of
Joan.
"She is worth more than all of you put together." And at the cries of:
"Oh, oh!" she was thrown into a new fit of merriment, and went still
further. "I would not give Joan's little finger for anyone in the
world."
And meanwhile, as all her hearers--all, that is to say, except Dove,
who sat moody, fingering his slight moustache, and gazing at Ephie with
fondly reproachful eyes--as all of them, with Mrs. Cayhill at their
head, made vehement protest against this sweeping assertion, Johanna
sat alone in her bedroom, at the back of the house. It was a dull room,
looking on a courtyard, but she was always glad to escape to it from
the flippant chatter in the sitting-room
|