MOLLY BAWN. 289
fresh as a daisy, and proposes an impromptu dance in the
baU-room. He is instantly snubbed, and retires gracefully,
consoling himself with the reflection that he has evidently
more 'go' in his little finger than they can boast in their
Sir Penthony having refused to acknowledge his wife's
parting salutation—meant to conciliate—Cecil retires to her
room in a state of indignation and sorrov/ that reduces her
presently to tears.
Her maid, entering just as she has reached the very
highest pinnacle of her wrongs, receives anything but a warm
' How now, Trimmins? Did I ring?' asks she with un-
v/onted sharpness, being unpleasantly mindful of the redness
of her eyes.
' No, my lady; but I thought------'
' Never think,' says Cecil, interrupting her with un¬
' No, my lady. I only thought perhaps you would see
Miss Massereene,' persists Trimmins meekly, ' She wishes
to know, with her love, if you can receive her now,'
' Miss Massereene ? Of course I can. Why did you not
say so before ?'
'Your ladyship scarcely gave me time,' says Trimmins
demurely, taking an exhaustive survey of her cambric
' True; I was hasty;' Cecil acknowledges in her impul¬
sive, honest, haughty way. ' Tell Miss Massereene I shall be
delighted to see her at once.'
Presently Molly enters, her eyelids pink, the corners of
her mouth forlornly curved—a general despondency in her
Cecil, scarcely more composed, advances to meet her.
' Why, MoUy !' she says, pathetically,
' You have been crying !' says MoUy, in the same breath,
throwing herself into her arms.
' I have indeed, my dear,' confesses Cecil, in a lachry¬
mose tone, and then she begins to cry again, and Molly
follows suit, and for the next five minutes they have a very
comfortable time of it together.
Then they open their hearts to each other and relate
fluently, as only a woman can, all the intolerable wrongs