Whew!" as Allen flung himself out of the room. "How have I put my
foot in it, mother?"
"You don't mean that that was all?"
"Every jot! What, has she not written? The abominable little elf!
I'm coming." And he shrugged his shoulders as Allen, who had come
round to the open window, beckoned to him.
"He was absolutely grappled by a trembling hand, and a husky voice
demanded, "What message did she really send? I can't stand foolery."
"Just that, Allen-—to Emma. Really just that. You can't shake more
out of me. You might as well expect anything from that Chinese
lantern. Hold hard. 'Tis not I—-"
"Don't speak! You don't know her! I was a fool to think she would
confide to a mere buffoon," cried poor Allen, in his misery. "Yet if
they were intercepting her letters—-"
Wherewith he buried himself in the depths of the shrubbery, while
Jock, with a long whistle, came back through the library window to
his mother, observing—-
"Intercepted! Poor fellow! Hardly necessary, if possible, though
Lady Flora might wish to catch her for Clanmacnalty. Has the
miserable imp really vouchsafed no notice of any of you?"
"Not the slightest; and it is breaking Allen's heart."
"As if a painted little marmoset were worth a man's heart! But Allen
has always been infatuated about her, and there's a good deal at
stake, though, if he could only see it in the right fight, he is well
quit of such a bubble of a creature.
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