Part 32 (2/2)
”Yes, and write too. Mamma taught me.”
”But I thought she was daft,” Elspeth blurted out.
”She is only daft now and then,” Grizel replied, without her usual spirit. ”Generally she is not daft at all, but only timid.”
Next morning the Painted Lady's child paid three calls, one in town, two in the country. The adorable thing is that, once having made up her mind, she never flinched, not even when her hand was on the knocker.
The first gentleman received her in his lobby. For a moment he did not remember her; then suddenly the color deepened on his face, and he went back and shut the parlor-door.
”Did anybody see you coming here?” he asked, quickly.
”I don't know.”
”What does she want?”
”She did not send me, I came myself.”
”Well?”
”When you come to our house--”
”I never come to your house.”
”That is a lie.”
”Speak lower!”
”When you come to our house you tell me to go out and play. But I don't.
I go and cry.”
No doubt he was listening, but his eyes were on the parlor-door.
”I don't know why I cry, but you know, you wicked man! Why is it?”
”Why is it?” she demanded again, like a queen-child, but he could only fidget with his gold chain and shuffle uneasily in his parnella shoes.
”You are not coming to see my mamma again.”
The gentleman gave her an ugly look.
”If you do,” she said at once, ”I shall come straight here and open that door you are looking at, and tell your wife.”
He dared not swear. His hand--
”If you offer me money,” said Grizel, ”I shall tell her now.”
He muttered something to himself.
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