Ah! see
the beautiful wreaths!"
"Come on, Josephine," said Kate impatiently.
But it was not so easy to get the French maid on. A bazaar was
felicity to her, and she had her little lady in her power; she stood
and gazed, admired, and criticised, at every stall that afforded
ornamental wearing apparel or work patterns; and Kate, making little
excursions, and coming back again to her side, could not get her on
three yards in a quarter of an hour, and was too shy and afraid of
being lost, to wander away and transact her own business. At last
they did come to a counter with ornamental stationery; and after
looking at four or five books, Kate bought a purple embossed one, not
at all what she had had in her mind's eye, just because she was in
too great a fright to look further; and then step by step, very
nearly crying at last, so as to alarm Josephine lest she should
really cry, she got her out at last. It was a quarter to four, and
Josephine was in vain sure that Miladi Barbe would never be at the
place in time; Kate's heart was sick with fright at the thought of
the shame of detection.
She begged to get out at the Marble Arch, and not risk driving along
Park Lane; but Josephine was triumphant in her certainty that there
was time; and on they went, Kate fancying every bay nose that passed
the window would turn out to have the brougham, the man-servant, and
Aunt Barbara behind it.
At length they were set down at what the Frenchwoman thought a safe
distance, and paying the cabman, set out along the side path,
Josephine admonishing her lady that it was best not to walk so
swiftly, or to look guilty, or they would be "trahies.
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