"You had better run, Deena, if you don't want to be caught," and then more giggling, and a quick rush across the hall.
Dicky threw open the hall door, and French, glancing up the stairs, caught sight of a velvet train disappearing round the turn of the first landing. He took the chances of making a blunder and called:
"Come down, Mrs.
Ponsonby. It is I-Stephen French-and I have something to say to you."
This was first received in silence, and then in piercing whispers, the little sisters tried to inspire courage:
"Go down, Deena; you don't look a bit _funny_-really.
"
"'Funny'-ye gods!" thought French, as Deena turned and came slowly down the stairs. He only wished she did look _funny_, or anything, except the intoxicating, maddening contrast to her usual sober self that was descending to him.
She was dressed in black velvet of a fashion evidently copied from a picture, for the waist was prolonged over the hips in Van Dykes, and from the shoulders and sleeves Venetian point turned back, displaying the lovely neck and arms that Polly had so envied.
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