“Is it only an old lady? Will there be any other fellows there?”
“She isn’t old, young gentleman. There are some little girls—or young ladies, perhaps you’d call them—that she has brought up. She says the neighbours have called on her.”
“Is Waynflete much of a place?” asked Guy. “Why have we never seen it?”
“No, Guy,” said Mrs Waynflete. “It’s but a poor place, and while the house was let to strangers—as, indeed, a good part of the property is still in the hands of the old tenants—I did not care for you to go there. Now, you can both see what you think of it.”
Guy gave a quick glance at her, while Godfrey said—
“I don’t suppose it’s jollier than this.”
“Before you go,” said the old lady, sitting up in her chair, “there’s something I want to say to you.”
“Yes, auntie,” said Godfrey, staring at her, while Guy said, “Yes?” politely.
“You both know how Waynflete has been got back for the family. By hard work, and doing of duty, and courage. When my heart is set on a thing, lads, I don’t fear trouble. I don’t fear man, and I’ve no need to fear the devil, since I know I’m in the right. And I never shall fear what folks may say of any course I choose to follow. I’m an old woman, and I tell you that a single aim always hits the mark.”
As she spoke in her strong voice, and looked at the lads with her strong eyes, Guy felt that the manifesto had a purpose. Godfrey listened quite simply as to an improving remark.