"I'm afraid I was looking at the horses," cut in her stepsister.
If Robert had been on board at this juncture he would probably have wished to box his cousin's ears, but I had no such desire, though mine were tingling. In fact, I should have enjoyed boxing Robert's; for I saw that, with the best intentions in the world (and intentions are dangerous weapons!), my too-loyal friend had in some way contrived to make me appear insufferable. Perhaps he'd given the impression that I had boasted an intention to meet her within a given time, and she took this for my brutal way of carrying out the boast.
"What is a Jonkheer?" the pseudo Lady MacNairne demanded of Starr.
"I don't know exactly," he admitted.
"Don't you? But, nephew dear, how can you help knowing, when you have an old friend who is one?"
(Was there a spice of malice in this question?)
"You see, almost ever since I've known him, I've thought of him as Alb," Starr explained hastily. "Alb is a kind of—er—pet name."
"I suppose it means something nice in Dutch," said Miss Rivers, in the soft, pretty way she has, which would fain make every one around her happy. "But I think Mr. van Buren told us that 'Jonkheer' was like our baronet; Jonkheer instead of 'Sir,' isn't it?"
"Something of the sort," I answered.
"It sticks in the throat, if you'll excuse me for saying so, like a bit of crust," remarked Aunt Fay.