We must get some advice--from the lawyers."
"I hate lawyers!" The girl flushed angrily. "I went to one in Lucca
once--we wanted a paper drawn up. Mamma was ill. I had to go by myself.
He was a brute!"
"Oh, my old lawyer is not a brute," said Tatham, laughing. "He's a jolly
old chap."
"The man in Lucca was a horrid brute!" repeated Felicia. "He wanted to
kiss me! There was a vase of flowers standing on his desk. I threw them
at him. It cut him. I was so glad! His forehead began to bleed, and the
water ran down from his hair. He looked so ugly and silly! I walked all
the way home up the mountains, and when I got home I fainted. We never
went to that man again."
"I should think not!" exclaimed Tatham, with disgust. For the first time
he looked at her attentively. An English girl would not have told him
that story in the same frank, upstanding way. But this little elfish
creature, with her blazing eyes, friendless and penniless in the world,
had probably been exposed to experiences the English girl would know
nothing of. He did not like to think of them. That beast, her father!
He was going away, when Felicia said, her curly head a
little on one side, her tone low and beguiling:
"When you come back, will you teach me to ride? Lady Tatham
said--perhaps--"
Tatham was embarrassed--and bored--by the request.
"I have no doubt we can find you a pony," he said evasively, and taking
up the Bradshaw he walked away.
Felicia stood alone and motionless in the big hall, amid its
Gainsboroughs and Romneys, its splendid cabinets and tapestries, a
childish figure in a blue dress, with crimson cheeks, and compressed
lips.
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