“Yes, here it is. Dear Lady Carbury has recognized me, and is waving her hand.” The Rev. George stood on tiptoe as he spoke, and flourished his low-crowned soft felt hat.
During the ensuing greetings Carbury stood silent, looking at the horses with an expression that made the coachman uneasy. At dinner he ate sedulously, and left the task of entertaining the visitor to his mother and the girls. The clergyman was at no loss for conversation. He was delighted with the dinner, delighted with the house, delighted to see the Countess looking so well, and delighted to hear that the tennis party that day had been a pleasant one. The Earl listened with impatience, and was glad when his mother rose. Before she quitted the dining-room he made a sign to her, and she soon returned, leaving Marian, Constance, and Elinor in the drawing-room.
“You will not mind my staying, I hope, George,” she said, as she resumed her seat.
“A delightful precedent, and from a distinguished source,” said the Rev. George. “Allow me to pass the bottle. Ha! ha!”
“Thank you, no,” said the Countess. “I never take wine.” Her tone was inconclusive, as if she intended to take something else.
“Will you take brandy-and-soda?” said her son, rather brusquely.
Lady Carbury lowered her eyelids in protest. Then she said: “A very little, if you please, Jasper. I dare not touch wine,” she continued to the clergyman. “I am the slave of my medical man in all matters relating to my unfortunate digestion.”
“Mother,” said Jasper, “George has brought us a nice piece of news concerning your pet Marmaduke.”
The clergyman became solemn and looked steadily at his glass.
“I do not know that it is fair to describe him as my pet exactly,” said the Countess, a little troubled. “I trust there is nothing unpleasant the matter.”