Mr Gwynne was alive and interested in a moment. It is curious how on the alert people are when they hear of a love affair.
'I will go and dress at once; he must be nice if Miss Hall likes him, for she is certainly the least intrusive, and all that sort of thing. Is he like Rowland Prothero?'
Freda coloured at this sudden question.
'No, not at all; besides, he is a middle-aged man.'
'To be sure; I suppose so. Miss Hall must be—I don't know—nearly forty I suppose. I wish Rowland Prothero lived at the farm; he was so obliging and pleasant; even Lady Mary Nugent admires him.'
'She is no great criterion of what is agreeable; I shouldn't think it any compliment to be liked by her. There is the dressing bell. Now, papa, do be ready for dinner, if you please.'
Freda went to her room in a sudden fit of ill-temper. The mention of Lady Mary always put her out of humour. In a few moments there was a tap at the door, and Miss Hall made her appearance.
'I might have waited a long time at the waterfall, Serena,' she began maliciously.
For answer, Miss Hall went to her and kissed her, and when Freda looked up, she saw that there was an unusually bright colour in her cheeks, and something very like tears in her eyes.
Freda threw her arms round her friend, exclaiming,—