and silent. Miss Fairlie seemed to feel the oppression of the long pauses in the conversation, and looked appealingly to her sister to fill them up. Miss Halcombe, after once or twice hesitating and checking herself, in a most uncharacteristic manner, spoke at last.
“I have seen your uncle this morning, Laura,” she said. “He thinks the purple room is the one that ought to be got ready, and he confirms what I told you. Monday is the day—not Tuesday.”
While these words were being spoken Miss Fairlie
Fairlie suddenly opened his eyes again, and rolled them with an expression of helpless alarm in the direction of the window.
“I entreat you to excuse me, Mr. Hartright,” he said in a feeble flutter. “But surely I hear some horrid children in the garden— my private garden—below?”
“I can’t say, Mr.