AN INVITATION.


It was nearly ten o'clock when Pauline returned. Madame Verney had begged
her so hard to stay and keep her company that she had not been able to
refuse, she told Rose, with many caresses.

"I have been thinking of you all the time, you poor darling. But what
could I do? Felicie--she begged me this evening to call her Felicie--was
so bent on my staying. I am going to take you to see her tomorrow. I
talked so much about my little English Rose. And what have you been doing
with yourself? What a pity you did not go to the concert! It was glorious.
We had delightful seats. I never enjoyed a concert so much before."

"I have been to Woodcote," Rose broke in. "It was such a lovely afternoon
I could not stay indoors."

Pauline looked dismayed. "To Woodcote?" she said sharply. "What a strange
idea, Rose! I thought you were going into the Park. Was not Miss Merivale
surprised to see you alone? I fancy she thinks we are like the Siamese
Twins--always together."

"I did not see Aunt Lucy. They had all gone to Guilford. I only saw
Wilmot."

"Wilmot? That's the cook, isn't it? I never can remember servants' names.
Well, did she condole with you about the concert, and think me a wretch
for deserting you? I am afraid Miss Merivale will think so."