"Tell Mr. Norman that Mr. Somerled has come, and that we're ready for supper," said Aline to Moore. The eyes of mistress and maid met, and for an instant they were social equals.
Basil Norman was a man who had odd thoughts and enjoyed them. For this reason he did not weary of his own society, for he never quite knew what he would think next. When he came to the door and pushed it open, he half believed that he was dreaming the tall, beautiful, badly dressed girl with torrents of red hair. People in real life did not wear their hair in torrents. Perhaps she was a ghost who went with the house, and he had never happened to see her before. He wondered if the others had noticed her yet.
"How are you, Somerled?" he inquired, not taking his eyes off the apparition. It was looking at him, too, almost anxiously, as if it were wondering whether he would be friend or foe; but, of course, it did not speak.
"All right. Very glad to see you both again—and to be here," Somerled answered.
"Miss MacDonald," announced Aline, thin-lipped.
"So you have a name?" said Basil to Barrie. "Was it given to you in dreamland or the spirit-world?" Then she knew at once that he was not a foe, but a friend.
"Fairyland," she replied, beaming on him. "I was in fairyland to-day. If I hadn't been there, I shouldn't be here." She could answer her own late question now, with practical certainty. She was going to like men better than women! Her mother, of course, would be an exception.
VI
It was a delicious little supper that Mrs. West had ordered in Somerled's honour, yet for some mysterious reason, thoroughly understood only by Aline, nobody did justice to it or enjoyed it much. Perhaps there was thunder in the air, which upset the nerves of every one, even the nerves of Moore, who spilt bouillon on Miss MacDonald's sleeve. This was the explanation which occurred to Basil; and certain it was that the sky had suddenly clouded over, hiding all the stars.