“I suppose you will appear at dinner, sir?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with her grandest air.
“I hope so, Mrs. Kennyfeck,” was the mild answer.
“Without you should take it into your head, pa, to enter into rivalry with Mr. Linton, and stay away, heaven knows where or how long,” said Miss Kennyfeck.
Mr. Kennyfeck did not wait for more, but left the room with an air whose solemnity well suited any amount of secrecy.
“Is there a carriage at the door?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck.
“No, mamma; there are three saddle-horses—one with a side-saddle. That odious Miss Meek!” exclaimed Miss Kennyfeck; “what Lord Charles can see in her I cannot conceive. To be sure, she saves a stable-boy the more, and that to him is something.”
“Has your father gone out by the back terrace?” resumed Mrs. Kennyfeck, one only theme occupying her thoughts.
Olivia retired into an adjoining room, and soon returned, saying,—
“No, ma; there's no one there, except Sir Andrew and Lady Janet, taking their morning walk.”
“Their run, rather, my dear,” chimed in Miss Kennyfeck, “for she chases the poor old man up and down with a cup of camomile tea, which either scalds or sets him a-coughing. I 'm sure that tiresome old couple have awoke me every day the last week with their squabbling.”