Guy could quite sympathise with his desire to appear as little shabby as might be. So he ran for a brush, and brushed his garments well, got him his hat, and set out with him to the beech tree. Mr. Egerton walked slowly, and looked so old, that Villiers never thought that this could be his uncle. Sir Aymer, though his hair was white, looked younger and more vigorous.
"Here is papa," Clarice said.
And somehow her evident nervousness infected Villiers, who was far less certain of a welcome than he had expected to be.
Mr. Egerton came up in silence.
Guy said, "This is Villiers, sir."
"Ay, I see him. You are—welcome to my house, Villiers, though truly I have not much to make you welcome to. Did you come—do you bring any message to me?"
"Oh no, Uncle Guy. I am wandering about just to amuse myself, and pass the time. My coming here was accidental."
"Ah, I thought so. You are weary and hungry; I daresay they can supply your wants. Where is—where is Helen?"
"She went over the river with Aymer, papa, for she wanted to speak to Mrs. Pearson; but Katty will bring out some dinner for my cousin. Here she comes."
Villiers opened his eyes a little as Katty, her gown of no particular colour, pinned up so as to display a petticoat of every colour of the rainbow—a perfect marvel of patches!—her battered sun-bonnet flapping wildly in the breeze, came up, followed by Agnes, who carried a small table.