“You are quite unfair, Mark; they are greatly liked,—at least, people are glad to have them; and if we only had poor Tony Butler here, who used to manage them to perfection, they 'd help us wonderfully with all the dulness around us.”
“Thank Heaven we have not. I 'd certainly not face such a constellation as the three of them. I tell you, frankly, that I 'd pack my portmanteau and go over to Scotland if that fellow were to come here again.”
“You 're not likely to be driven to such an extremity, I suspect; but here comes papa, and I think he has been down at the Burnside; let us hear what news he has.”
“It has no interest for me,” said he, walking away, while she hastened out to meet Sir Arthur.
“No tidings, Alice,—at least, none that I can learn. Mrs. Butler's headache still prevents her seeing me, though I could wager I saw her at work in the garden when I turned off the high-road.”
“How strange! You suspect that she avoids you?”
“I am certain of it; and I went round by the minister's, thinking to have a talk with Stewart, and hear something that might explain this; but he was engaged in preparing his sermon, and begged me to excuse him.”
“I wish we could get to the bottom of this mystery. Would she receive me, do you think, if I were to go over to the cottage?”
“Most likely not I suspect whatever it be that has led to this estrangement will be a passing cloud; let us wait and see. Who are those coming up the bend of the road? The horse looks fagged enough, certainly.”
“The Grahams, I declare! Oh, I must find Mark, and let him be caught here when they arrive.”