"Poor old Nand," she cried, in quite a tearful voice, but laughing to me with her eyes. "Be careful, Angela. Shall I do it, dear?"
"Do you think I can't take a bandage off?" was the reply, with some sharpness, as she came back with the scissors.
"Ah, oh!" I cried, wincing as if she hurt me at the next touch. "Please be careful. I can't bear pain a bit."
"Men never can," she retorted. "I'm sure I scarcely touched you. But if it's as bad as that, I'll be careful," she added, earnestly; and the little farce proceeded, she unwinding the clumsy bandage I had put on, and I wincing and "ah-ing" and grimacing, until the hand was uncovered, and the fingers--bloodless, of course, from the ligature--were exposed to view.
"What's the matter with them?" she said, examining them closely.
"It came on suddenly." I explained. "And now for the cloth massage. Gently."
"Why, massage with cloth, of course. Wait, I have it;" and without more ado about nothing, I thrust my arm through the sleeve of my coat, and held out my hand to shake hers. "The most wonderful cure on record. Thank you so much."
Mercy burst out laughing, but Mrs. Curwen coloured with vexation.
"What does it mean? You've been fooling," she cried. "I call it horrid of you;" and as she turned away I saw tears of vexation start to her eyes. Then I repented.
"Forgive me. Honestly, I am sorry and did not mean to vex you. There is a meaning to all this, and some day I'll tell you both, and the tale will surprise you, probably."
"I'll forgive you if you're going to stay and take us nut, and then come back to dinner. Your friend Mr. Mayhew is coming. We're going to the Opera. The young King is to be there, and the Queen. It's to be a real gala show."
"I should like to see the young King," I replied, truthfully enough, indeed. "But I can't manage to dine with you. Give me the number of your box, and if I can get my work done I'll try and join you there. I must be off now, in fact."
"You seem to be very hard-worked at the Embassy," she replied.
"This is not purely Embassy work; it's rather extra-official than otherwise."
"A.B.C. used to say that when a man had out-of-office work there was generally a woman in the case."
"Ah, he was an American; and American customs are very unpopular in Madrid just now;" and as my time was up, I hurried away. A short drive carried me to the stables where my horse was in waiting ready saddled, and not a vestige of the little farce remained in my thoughts as I mounted and rode slowly off on what might be so momentous an errand for me.