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"I!" cried David, starting up with pale cheeks. "I defend you!" The curator smiled at her eagerness. "The library panel will be announced at noon on Tuesday in the first antique room," he said. "And the modeling class will be notified immediately before, while the class is still in session." "Yes, yes," whispered the girl, stepping into the room. "I got out of my bedroom window and escaped from my mother and Dido. I want to see Maurice.".
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Outside, the peaceful landscape was filled with a warm amber light, and this poured into the oak-paneled dining-room through three French windows which opened onto a close-shaven lawn. Dinner was at an end; Jaggard, the major's valet, butler and general factotum, had placed the wines before his master, and was now handing around cigars and cigarettes. All being concluded to his satisfaction--no easy attainment, for Jaggard, trained in military fashion, was very precise--he departed, closing the door after him. The warm light of the evening flashed on the polished table--Major Jen was sufficiently old-fashioned to have the cloth removed for desert--and lighted up the four faces around it with pale splendor. This quartette of countenances is not unworthy of a detailed description. "I reckon most of the nippiness in this tale is Nero's work—not mine," she said, smoothing the long folds of gray lansdown into shape with absent fingers. "You see, it was this way. Old Miss Fell, who lives in that big red brick house——" Patricia nodded as she held the door wide for Elinor. "Griffin said she'd be ready for us, and Margaret Howes is coming straight down from composition class." "Both and more too," laughed Patricia. "We've got a surprise for you, Norn, but we won't tell till we've had lunch; will we, Ju?".
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