“My dear, I can’t let you keep speaking of Mrs. Burns that way. She’s one of the finest, sweetest----”
“She’s a peach!” said Fanny, unexpectedly. “I admit I’ve nothing against Mrs. Burns except that she took me to a dismal violin recital when I’d awfully wanted to see a perfectly ripping play Cary had tickets for.”
Fanny nodded. “Of course--why not, Miss Prudy? I didn’t mind that so much, though. The thing I minded was Jane Ray’s sleekness. She makes me think of one of those silky black cats with yellow eyes----”
But here Nan Lockhart sat up in bed, fire in her own steel-gray eyes. “Fanny Fitch, that’s enough!” she said, with low distinctness. “Jane Ray is my friend.”
“I thought _I_ was! This is so sudden!” And quite unexpectedly, even to herself, Fanny Fitch began to cry, with long, sobbing breaths. Nan slipped out of bed, pulled on a loose gown hanging over its foot, and laid hold of Fanny.
“Come!” she commanded, firmly. “I’m going to put you to bed and give Nature a chance to restore those absurd nerves of yours. You don’t want Cary Ray, you can’t have Robert Black, and you might just as well give in and take that perfectly good lover of yours who has been faithful to you all these years. He adores you enough to put up with the very worst of you, and he ought to be rewarded with the best of you. You know absolutely that you’d be the most miserable girl in the world married to a man of Mr. Black’s type----”
Fanny drew a deep sigh, her head on Nan’s long-suffering shoulder.
“It’ll not be my fault if I don’t have a try at that sort of misery,” she moaned. “And I’ll do it yet, see if I don’t! I know a way!--Oh, yes! I know a way! Wait and see!”
Nan Lockhart saw her finally composed for sleep, her fair head looking like a captivating cameo against her pillow, her white arms meekly crossed upon her breast. Fanny looked up at her friend, her face once more serene.
“Don’t I look good enough now for just anybody?” she murmured.
“You look like a young stained-glass angel,” Nan replied, grimly. “But--since you were so unjust as to compare Jane Ray to a silky _black_ cat I’ll tell you that just now you make me think of----”
“I know--a sleepy white one--with a saucer of cream near by. Good-night--saint! I don’t deserve you, but--I love you just the same. And I dare you to tell me you don’t love me!”