"Quite," said Graeme, wondering what they were all talking about. Then, perhaps realising that something more was required of him, added: "I'll be quite all right alone. Have no end of a time. Don't either of you hurry back on my account."
"There are no engagements to bring us back till the end of the week, are there Emily?" queried Sir Malcolm.
"Not that I can remember." Lady Manners walked to a bureau and consulted a little tablet of memoranda. "Oh, I had forgotten, I wrote this morning to the governess in charge of those children staying at Glebe Farm, asking her to bring them to tea the day after to-morrow. They are the children of Admiral Halliday; you remember, we met him and his wife at Portsmouth the year before the war—when we stayed with the Farehams."
"Pretty woman, was she?" inquired Sir Malcolm. "Or was it the one who liked boiled eggs with her tea?"
"It's immaterial," said his wife. "The children have had chicken-pox and are convalescing. I understand they are free from infection."
"They've stopped peeling," said the voice of Graeme.
"Eh?" said Sir Malcolm, wheeling with a surprised expression. He had a way of forgetting his brother-in-law's presence and being startled when he spoke. "That needn't bring me back from town, need it?"
"Not at all," said Graeme cheerfully. "They'd probably start again if they thought they'd dragged you back."
The baronet looked still more confused. "Start what? I don't understand. What have I got to do with these children and their complaints?"
"Nothing," said his wife, in the tone the keeper of an imbecile might adopt. "They are only coming here to tea when we are away. Graeme, of course, would consider it beneath his dignity to entertain children"—she smiled rather frostily—"so Mrs. Mackworth must give them their tea and show them the picture gallery, and—er—Baines shall take them round the gardens. That will leave Graeme free from all responsibilities in our absence."