“Well, Stuart, what are we to do to amuse Vane?” she inquired, turning to her son, with the pleasure called up by her niece’s speech still lingering on her face.
“I am afraid, mother, I shall not be able to offer my services to-day. I am bound for Chesterham this morning,” Stuart answered, vigorously attacking a pie on a side table.
“Chesterham!” ejaculated his mother. “Why, what takes you there, Stuart?”
“An appointment with Derwent. He has written and asked me to meet him at the junction on his way to town; he wants to see me.”
“Why could not Captain Derwent come here for a few days?” inquired Mrs. Crosbie, coldly. She was annoyed that anything should interrupt the acquaintance that was progressing so satisfactorily.
“He can’t; he is due in London.”
“But must you go?” began his mother, when Vane interrupted with:
“Oh, please don’t stop him, auntie, dear, or he will vote me such a nuisance! Indeed; we can spare Stuart for one day, and I will enjoy myself with you if you will let me. We have not driven to any places yet; shall we not go somewhere to-day?”
“I shall be pleased,” Mrs. Crosbie replied, though she looked vexed; and all other remarks on the subject were stopped, to Stuart’s great relief, by his father’s appearance—Lady Charteris never left her room till noon.
The squire came in with his curious halting gait; he carried a bundle of letters and papers in his hand, and his haggard features wore a look of surprise.