“There’s my aunt, father; she was coming to tell you.”
Mr Whittaker went out to the door and beckoned Harry after him. There stood Mrs Stroud, beaming; Mattie, flushed and eager; George by no means so well pleased; and all the four younger ones eager and excited.
Harry’s coolness returned as soon as he had settled matters with his father, and he greeted them all as composedly as if he had returned from a short excursion abroad, and presently they all went in to sit down to supper and take each other’s measure as well as they could.
Mrs Stroud at once called for the photograph and Ethel and Sybil giggled with delight at finding themselves possessed of a nephew, while Mattie began to think that some of the romance she was so fond of had found its way into real life.
“And how long do you mean to stay this side of the water, Harry?” asked his aunt.
“Only till the matter of which I spoke to my father is concluded or given up. Mr Alwyn and myself could not both be away for long together, and I think he will not leave his brother again so quickly. Alberta would be very glad to make your acquaintances. Will you come back with me and pay us a visit, Mattie?”
“No, Henery,” said Mrs Stroud; “if Mattie knows which side her bread’s buttered she’ll stay on this side of the ocean. But if you want to do a brother’s part by your own family, you’ll take Florrie off their hands. For there’s no room for that girl—not in the High Street of Rapley. Perhaps there might be in Ameriky.”
“Aunt Eliza!” said Mattie indignantly, “Harry only meant so as to make acquaintance.”
“Well, well,” said Harry, “we’ll talk it all over. But Florence did her best to get me out of a scrape—”
“Which I make no doubt she got you into,” said Mrs Stroud.