“Fred, Fred, this is too bad,” said his uncle. “You take an unfair advantage of your opportunities. Miss Kingsworth, is Fred to be the only one to obtain a promise beforehand?”
Major Clare was a handsome man of thirty, tall, dark-haired, and sunburnt, fulfilling very fairly a girl’s ideal of an Indian officer. He had a pleasant laugh in his eyes, and a touch of satire not quite so pleasant in his voice; and his elder brother the Vicar, and still more the Vicar’s wife, found him rather an incongruous element in the clerical household. Not that he was otherwise than perfectly decorous and well-conducted, or in the eyes of his relations other than a proper suitor for the heiress of Kingsworth, supposing his inclinations turned that way; but somehow under his influence, lawn-tennis, boating, and other amusements usurped a good deal more than their usual share of the family life. Fred, Minnie, and the younger ones were only too ready to follow his lead, and Rose, the eldest daughter, who was more soberly inclined, was cross because studies and parish work were neglected, and if she maintained some order, diminished the harmony of the family circle. But the Major had no other home, and did not seem at present inclined to dispose of himself elsewhere.
Katharine blushed at his remark, and said with a little restraint,—
“Oh, no, I should be very glad to dance with any one.”
“For how many balls will you retain so much humility?” said Major Clare, laughing. “Let me take advantage of it while it lasts, and ask for two dances.”
Kate assented, but she looked a little uncomfortable, and as a general move towards the lawn-tennis ground enabled her to speak to him apart, she said,—
“Major Clare, I did not mean to ask you to ask me to dance just now.”
Major Clare looked at her with a slight air of amusement. “What has made you think of that?” he said.
“Well, I think Emberance looked at me,” said the candid Kate.
“I should not have thought your cousin’s eyes so formidable.”