“Oh yes, I can play cricket all right.”
“If you can bowl a bit, with Miss Parrett’s leave, I’ll put you into the village club; we rather fancy ourselves, and a young man of your stamp will be an acquisition.” At this moment Aurea entered, carrying an enormous cardboard box.
“Good-morning,” she said. “I see aunt sent you for the lampshade, and here it is.”
“What a size!” exclaimed her father. “Why, you must have robbed your best hat! I declare it’s not fair to a man to ask him to be seen with such a thing going through the village.”
“Not half so bad as seeing people go down the street with a black bottle in either hand!” retorted his daughter.
“I don’t mind, sir,” said Wynyard, taking up the box as he spoke.
“Please tell Aunt Bella I will be after you in two or three minutes,” said Aurea; then to her father, “She wants to unpack grandpapa’s books at last!”
“You mean that she wants you to unpack the books,” corrected Mr. Morven; “you might steal a few for me, eh? I suppose you will be away all day?” and he looked at her rather wistfully.
“No, no, dear, I’ll be back soon after tea.” To Owen: “Straight on, it’s an easy door.”
As Wynyard turned in the hall and backed out, box in hand, he had a vision of pretty Miss Aurea perched on the arm of his chair, with her arm round her father’s neck. Lucky old beggar!