“Not if you and Alice were to back my request?”
“I fear not,” said Alice. “He has estranged himself of late from every one; he has not been even once to see us since he came back from England.”
“Then Mark will go and fetch him for us,” said Mrs. Maxwell, the most unobservant of all old ladies.
“Not I, madam; nor would that be the way to secure him.”
“Well, have him we must,” said Mrs. Maxwell; while she added in a whisper to Mrs. Trafford, “It would never do to lose the poor boy such a chance.”
“Beck says, if some one will drive her over to the Causeway,” cried the Commodore, “she'll vouch for success, and bring young Tony back with her.”
“Mr. Maitland offers himself,” said Alice, whose eyes sparkled with fun, while her lips showed no trace of a smile.
“Take the phaeton, then,” said Mrs. Maxwell; “only there will be no place for young Butler; but take a britscha, and order post-horses at Greme's Mill.” And now a sharp discussion ensued which road was the shorter, and whether the long hill or the “new cut” was the more severe on the cattle.
“This was most unfair of you,” said Maitland to Mrs. Trafford, as they rose from the table; “but it shall not succeed.”
“How will you prevent it?” said she, laughing. “What can you do?”