The servants were employed in putting away dishes into hampers.
There was a calm silence. “Hem!” observed Sir Henry Talbot.
“Eh?” replied the Honorable Tom Hitherington.
“Mamma,” said Miss Vere, “have you brought any work?”
“No, my dear.”
“At a picnic,” said Mr. Hitherington, “isn't it the thing for somebody—aw—to do something?”
“Ipsden,” said Lady Barbara, “there is an understanding between you and Mr. Hitherington. I condemn you to turn him into English.”
“Yes, Lady Barbara; I'll tell you, he means—-do you mean anything, Tom?”
Hitherington. “Can't anybody guess what I mean?”
Lady Barbara. “Guess first yourself, you can't be suspected of being in the secret.”