"Not far, I hope," said Prudence.
"I really think," said Mr. Catesby, rising--"I really think that I had
better go after her. At her age----"
He walked into the small passage and put his hand on the latch.
Prudence, now quite certain of his sanity, felt sorely reluctant to let
such impudence go unpunished.
"Are you going?" she inquired.
"I think I'd better," said Mr. Catesby, gravely. "Dear mother--"
"You're afraid," said the girl, calmly.
Mr. Catesby coloured and his buoyancy failed him. He felt a little bit
cheap.
"You are brave enough with two women," continued the girl, disdainfully;
"but you had better go if you're afraid."
Mr. Catesby regarded the temptress uneasily. "Would you like me to
stay?" he asked.
"I?" said Miss Truefitt, tossing her head. "No, I don't want you.
Besides, you're frightened."
Mr. Catesby turned, and with a firm step made his way back to the room;
Prudence, with a half-smile, took a chair near the door and regarded her
prisoner with unholy triumph.
"I shouldn't like to be in your shoes," she said, agreeably; "mother has
gone for a policeman."
"Bless her," said Mr. Catesby, fervently. "What had we better say to him
when he comes?"
"You'll be locked up," said Prudence; "and it will serve you right for
your bad behaviour."
Mr. Catesby sighed. "It's the heart," he said, gravely. "I'm not to
blame, really.
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