"You've given us a pretty fright and your lady mother's been in a mighty
tantrum. I tell you it's a wonder as she didn't tear my eyes out. She
swore as it was all my fault a lettin' you go. But what have you come
back for?"
"I had to. But don't bother, it's only for a few hours. Mother's out I
know."
"Course she is. Simpson the cattle dealer's a-beauing her to Marybone
Gardens. They won't be back this side o' midnight. Now just tell me what
you been a-doin' of. You're a pretty bag o' mischief if ever there was
one. Who's the man this time? T'aint the one as you runned away with, is
it?"
"No, indeed," cried Lavinia, indignantly. "I don't want ever to see him
again."
"Well, your mother does," returned Hannah with an odd kind of laugh.
"Whatever for?"
"I'll let you have the story d'rectly, but you tell me your tale first."
By this time they were in the shop and Hannah caught sight of Lavinia's
white, drawn face and her tear-swollen eyes.
"You poor baby. What's your fresh troubles?"
"Nothing--that is, not much. I'm tired. I'm faint. Give me some
coffee--cocoa--anything."
Faint indeed she was. At that meal with Lancelot Vane she had eaten very
sparingly. She was too excited, too much absorbed and interested in
seeing him so ravenous to think of herself. In addition she had gone
through much fatigue.
"Coffee--cocoa--to be sure," cried the kindly Hannah, "an' a hot
buttered cake besides.
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