Another profound sigh escaped Blanche as they reached the end.
“I am thankful we have you, Captain Desfrayne, as a sort of shield,” she half-laughingly exclaimed. “They cannot scold us so terribly when you are by, and when you depart the worst will be over.”
Mrs. Ormsby had informed Lady Quaintree and Mrs. Dormer of the state of affairs; but although aware that the girls were in safety, the ladies had fallen into dreadful agitation.
The meeting might readily be imagined, but would baffle description. For some minutes the elder ladies were so much absorbed by rejoicings, tears, kisses, reproaches, that they hardly noticed the stranger.
When Lois and Blanche had managed to give some intelligible account of their adventures, Paul Desfrayne was obliged to undergo a fresh shower of thanks, which were most distasteful to him.
“How can I contrive to escape?” he was asking himself, when Lady Quaintree startled him by saying:
“And we must really insist on your staying to dinner, Captain Desfrayne. You would catch your death of cold if you were to go out again while this heavy rain lasts.”
The young man started back.
“You are very kind, madam,” he murmured. “But I—I could not stay, I assure you.”
“Come, sir, I must exercise an old woman’s authority, and forbid you to leave us,” cried Lady Quaintree laughingly. “Your mother is, I may say, an old friend of mine, and I could not answer to her if her son met with any mishap on leaving any house where I might be supposed to have a voice. We owe you the safety of these wilful girls, and you must allow us to see to your welfare. If the rain does not abate, you must not ride back, but, if you refuse to honor us by remaining under this roof for the night, must accept the use of one of the carriages in the coach-house.”