But Mrs. Keller saw the look of annoyance upon his face, and said, “But, Percy, Mr. Norval dislikes your going, and you’re bound to stay.”

“Oh, nonsense, Mrs. Keller!  Of course he don’t care particularly, as I am going to be away but one night, and he’s got to spend all my life with me;” and her face saddened, he thought.  “I’m sure to come back to-morrow:  my cousin Shelton says, ’Percy always manages to be at hand when she’s wanted.’  Am I to write to Harry that we will take the rooms?  I must do it at once, or he may let some one have them;” and she came and stood beside him.

He answered, sullenly, “Do just as you like about it:  it’s no concern of mine.”

“Of course I shall do nothing of the kind.  If you had liked the idea, been very much pleased with it, it would have been different.  I only threw out the suggestion as a mere suggestion.  But we will think of it no more.”  All this in her quick, bright way, without a shade of annoyance visible, and she began talking of something else as if the matter was settled:  “The hotel-keeper will put a sofa-bed into your dressing-room for me to-morrow, so I shall be quite out of the way when your callers are here.  I have told them about bringing my trunk in there from Mrs. Keller’s room:  James will attend to it all for me.  So, as long as you are a ‘prisoner of hope’ in here, I’ll reign supreme in the dressing-room.  Now say ‘Good-bye,’ Mrs. Keller:  James will put you in the coach while I finish my adieux.”

“But, Percy, you mistake,” he said, quite humbly, when her old friend was gone:  “you do talk a fellow down so confoundedly,” with a laugh.  “I like your idea about the rooms most heartily:  indeed, I like all your ideas, all your letter, except where you are so deucedly severe upon me; but even that is true, and I like it when you tell me of it.  I think your management the best in everything, and I expect to be as happy as a king, or rather a good subject, with my little queen to rule over me and keep me in order in our new domain.”

She clasped her hands in a quick, passionate sort of way at his words, as if they gave her a pang.  He saw that, but her calm face and voice made him half doubt if it meant anything.  “Are you quite sure, or are you only saying it because you think I have a wish to go there?  I thought you did not seem to like it just now, and indeed I do not care:  I shall be quite content with whatever you arrange when you are well.”

“No, Percy:  write and say we will take the rooms from the time he leaves them.  I”—­with a half-abashed laugh—­“I was only cross because you are going away.  I shall miss you sorely, dear, and I’m sorry you’re going and are so glad to go—­that’s all.”

Her face turned crimson to the very temples, and she said, “I’m sorry I made my arrangements without consulting you:  I will not do so in future.  I did not think you would care one way or the other.”

“You’ve been so good to me, little one, and I’m so unused to being cared for except as a society ornament, that I think I shall never be able to get along without you again.”