him by his voice--began
telling it, to prompt Mr. Neigh's memory; and, as far as I could
understand, it was about some lady who thought Mr. Neigh was in love with
her, and, to find whether he was worth accepting or not, she went with
her maid at night to see his estate, and wandered about and got lost, and
was frightened, and I don't know what besides. Then Mr. Neigh laughed
too, and said he liked such common sense in a woman. No names were
mentioned, but I fancy, from the awkwardness of Mr. Neigh at being
compelled to tell it, that the lady is one of those in the drawing-room.
I should like to know which it was.'

'I know--have heard something about it,' said Picotee, blushing with
anger. 'It was nothing at all like that. I wonder Mr. Neigh had the
audacity ever to talk of the matter, and to misrepresent it so greatly!'

'Tell all about it, do,' said Menlove.

'O no,' said Picotee. 'I promised not to say a word.'

'It is your mistress, I expect.'

'You may think what you like; but the lady is anything but a mistress of
mine.'

The flighty Menlove pressed her to tell the whole story, but finding this
useless the subject was changed. Presently her father came in, and,
taking no notice of Menlove, told his daughter that she had been called
for. Picotee very readily put on her things, and on going outside found
Joey awaiting her. Mr. Chickerel followed closely, with sharp glances
from the corner of his eye, and it was plain from Joey's nervous manner
of lingering in the shadows of the area doorway instead of entering the
house, that the butler had in some way set himself to prevent all
communion between the fair lady's-maid and his son for that evening at
least.

He watched Picotee and her brother off the premises, and the pair went on
their way towards Exonbury Crescent, very few words passing between them.
Picotee's thoughts had turned to the proposed visit to Knollsea, and Joey
was sulky under disappointment and the blank of thwarted purposes.

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