Harold bent his head with a murmur of thanks, and was moving out of the supper-room, when Dermot hastily laid a hand on him with, "Keep the field, Harry; don't go."
"I'm not going."
"That's right. Face it out before the hags. Whom shall I introduce you—There's Birdie Stympson—come."
"No, no; I don't mean to dance again."
"Why not? Beard the harpies like a man. Dancing would refute them all."
"Would it?" gravely said Harold.
Nor could he be persuaded, save once at his host's bidding, but showed no signs of being abashed or distressed, and most of the male Stympsons came and spoke to him. The whole broke up at three, and we repaired to our rooms, conscious that family prayers would take place as the clock struck nine as punctually as if nothing had happened, and that our characters depended on our punctuality. Viola was in time, and so was Eustace; I sneaked in late and ashamed; and the moment the servants had filed out Viola sprang to Eustace with vehement acknowledgments; and it appeared that just before she came down her missing box of gifts had been brought to her room, and she was told that Mr. Alison had sent for them. Eustace smirked, and Lady Diana apologised for her little daughter's giddy, exaggerated expressions, by which she had given far more trouble than she ever intended.
"No trouble," said Eustace. "Harold always wants to work off his steam."
"What, it was he?" said Viola.
"Yes, of course; he always does those things," said Eustace, speaking with a tone of proprietorship, as if Harold had been a splendid self-acting steam-engine. "I am very glad to have gratified you, Miss Tracy—"