"Oh, you are going there?" she said. "Then I don't think I do pity you.
I was there for a year; it's an awfully nice place, and there are some
of my own friends there. I'll write and tell them about you. Oh! come
along; there is mamma at the door."
She took my hand. The Countess of Derwent was just saying adieu to
another intimate acquaintance who had entered the room as soon as Lilian
and I had betaken ourselves into the back drawing-room. She turned when
she saw her daughter.
"Come, Lilian. I am going. Say good-bye to Lady Anne."
"First," said Lilian in her calmest voice, "let me introduce you to the
Horror."
She drew me forward. The poor Countess's face became crimson.
"The what?" she said.
"Oh, you called her that yourself when you were congratulating dear
Grace on having a husband and ready-made children. Well, this is the
girl, and she is a perfect darling, a deliverer for me out of my worst
fit of the dumps."
"Oh, but they call me Dumps," I could not help saying.
"Better and better," said Lady Lilian.--"Now, mother, here she is; judge
for yourself."
"I must really apologise, Miss Grant," said the Countess. "I must
apologise most humbly. I had no idea you were in the room."
"There's nothing to apologise for," I answered. "I am awfully obliged
to you, for Lady Lilian wouldn't have spoken to me but for your saying
that. And you had a right to say it, for I expect I am a horror."
"I am sure you are nothing of the sort--Lilian, my dear Lilian."
Lady Lilian tripped back.
"Ask this child to tea to-morrow.--Come, won't you, Miss--Grant? Now
good-bye, my dear; you are a very nice, forgiving sort of girl.
Good-bye.--Come, Lilian--come!"