"
Missy brightened. The sight of old Mrs. Greenleaf and Miss Princess,
bustling gaily about, would lift this strange cloud gathering so
ominously. She asked permission to carry along a bunch of sweet
peas, and gathered the kind Miss Princess liked best--pinkish
lavender blossoms, a delicious colour like the very fringe of a
rainbow.
The Greenleafs' coloured maid let her in and showed her into the
"den" back of the parlour. "I'll tell Mrs. Greenleaf," she said.
"They're all busy upstairs."
Very busy they must have been, for Missy had restlessly dangled her
feet for what seemed hours, before she heard voices approaching the
parlour.
"Oh, I won't--I won't--" It was Miss Princess's voice, almost
unrecognizably high and quavering.
"Now, just listen a minute, darling--" This unmistakably Mr.
Hackett's languorous, curiously repellent monotone.
"Don't you touch me!"
Missy, stricken by the knowledge she was eavesdropping, peered about
for a means of slipping out. But the only door, portiere-hung, was
the one leading into the parlour. And now this concealed poor
blundering Missy from the speakers while it allowed their talk to
drift through.
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