Chapter XXII.
Dinner over, I did not hesitate about leaving the gentlemen to themselves. I declined a cigar, and followed Francis to the drawing-room. Rolf soon joined us, and demanded humbly—
“What says my Major—do I not deserve a word of praise?”
“Yes, certainly,” she replied, but her face clouded.
Guessing the reason, I whispered to the Captain—
“Don’t you perceive you annoy my cousin by always addressing her by that hateful nickname? Can’t you see by her elegant dress she desires to appear herself—Miss Mordaunt?”
“Indeed I am a blockhead not to pay better attention; but the truth is, Jonker—excuse me, Freule—the custom is such an inveterate one.”
“You and I must break with old customs, Captain,” she said softly, but with emphasis, “for we have been on the wrong track—have we not, Jonker?”
“May I say one word,” interposed the Captain, “before the Freule and the Jonker begin to philosophise; should the General come in I cannot say it. You know the day after to-morrow is the General’s seventy-sixth birthday. I had intended the celebration to be a brilliant affair; but when I hear of wrong tracks, changes, and such farrago, I begin to fear all my plans will fall through.”