But it was not this, but what she called common humanity, which prompted her, on hearing a heavy gust of rain against the windows, to go into the lower regions in quest of a messenger boy to order a brougham to take the guests home at the end of the evening.
The meal went off pleasantly on the whole, though there loomed a storm as to the ritual of St. Kenelm’s; but this chiefly was owing to the younger division of the company, when Valetta broke into an unnecessary inquiry why they did not have as many lights on the altar at St. Andrew’s as at St. Kenelm’s, and Fergus put her down with unceremoniously declaring that Stebbing said Flight was a donkey.
Gillian came down with what she meant for a crushing rebuke, and the indignant colour rose in the cheeks of the guests; but Fergus persisted, ‘But he makes a guy of himself and a mountebank.’
Aunt Jane thought it time to interfere. ‘Fergus,’ she said, ‘you had better not repeat improper sayings, especially about a clergyman.’
Fergus wriggled.
‘And,’ added Aunt Ada, with equal severity, ‘you know Mr. Flight is a very kind friend to little Maura and her sister.’
‘Indeed he is,’ said Kalliope earnestly; and Maura, feeling herself addressed, added, ‘Nobody but he ever called on poor mamma, till Miss Mohun did; no, not Lady Flight.’
‘We are very grateful for his kindness,’ put in Kalliope, in a repressive tone.
‘But,’ said Gillian, ‘I thought you said he had seemed to care less of late.’
‘I do not know,’ said Miss White, blushing; ‘music seems to be his chief interest, and there has not been anything fresh to get up since the concert.’