“No—er—yes—just a line—I say, Maudie, it’s a bit awkward—she bars young Lumley, and I’ve been asking him to look in whenever he pleases. Now I’m not to let him put his nose inside the door!”
In reply to the lady’s elevated brows, he added:
“The fact of the matter is, Doodie’s afraid the boy might take a fancy to Letty.”
“And, of course, no subalterns need apply! I see; well, I believe that you are locking the door, when the steed is stolen.”
“What, you don’t mean that—it’s one of your jokes?”
“No, indeed, I’m in deadly earnest; but you must do as Doodie wishes.”
“He’s a nice young fellow, as keen as mustard, and straight as a die; and I’m fond of Lance.”
“So am I,” assented Mrs. Hesketh. “Wouldn’t they make an ideal couple!—so young and honest, and good-looking—but naturally we must not think of it. Where are they now? Together?” and she glanced at her companion with whimsical dismay.
“Yes, they went off to the skating after lunch. I intended going too, but I’ve a touch of gout.”
“What, all the way to Barnby Mere—alone? If Doodie knew, she’d have fit after fit.”