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Isabella turned pale, for she guessed what was coming. As Etwald had raised his voice purposely, Maurice, who was standing by the tea-table, also pricked up his ears. Mrs. Dallas, with some curiosity, raised herself to look closer at Etwald and he, seeing that his auditory was attentive, prepared to launch his thunderbolt. The girls swept a puzzled glance around the room, but could discern no familiar face among the gay groups at the many little tables. David, however, gave an exclamation, and half rose in his chair. "But I'll spoil her designs in that quarter," muttered Maurice, as his thoughts led him to this conclusion. "Isabella shall not be dragged down to the level of her mother. I shall marry her, and so destroy the influence of that vile negress.".
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"Why, because they're the very nicest things in the world, of course," she replied spiritedly. "I love to get new ones and see how they work. It's such fun. Like archery practice, when you hit the bull's eye. Only words are somehow different, too. They sort of taste when you say them—sometimes sweet and sometimes tingly and queer, like the Amorites and Hittites," and she giggled at the memory. They loitered about the room, chatting at various tables, and were taken by surprise at last by the breathless arrival of their late guest. She hailed them with an air of the bearer of important news, and as soon as they were ensconced in their corner with the cocoa safely bestowed on a stool at Patricia's right hand, she opened her heart. "Mother's handkerchief, Dido," explained Isabella, interrupting. "The one you bound round my head." The feast was half over when Patricia, who sat between Margaret Howes and Griffin and opposite to the adorable Doris Leighton, got a distinct shock..
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