Mrs. Wright came to the open door. "We're going now, Violet," she said. "Will you come? Our host positively refuses to allow us to help him put things away, and he will follow a little later. I've been hoping," turning to Edgar, "that you might be moved to sing as you sat out here."
The young man had sprung to his feet and was trying to banish evidences of the red mood from his brow.
"I wanted to take Violet out on the water to-night," he said. "It seems there's an obstacle."
"Yes, a large one," returned Mrs. Wright pleasantly. "Lots of evenings coming, but I don't know about letting my little girl go on the water at night."
"I guarantee her safety. I've come here ever since I was a baby, Mrs. Wright, and I'm an amphibious animal; but if Sidney should ever suggest it, remember he's a landlubber. Half the time they don't know enough to be afraid."
"Very true," returned Mrs. Wright, with her natural graceful sweetness of manner, which at least succeeded in making Edgar feel rude. "Come, dear," turning to Violet, "I'd like to have you come with me."
So the girl rose and yielded her cup to Edgar, who took it with dignity. He, the ex-cavalier of Mrs. Larrabee, not to be able to mould circumstances among these poor and provincial people!
He took leave of Philip, and tendered his congratulations with an air fitted to grace marble halls. "I believe," he added, "you don't dine at home to-night."
"No," replied Phil, "Miss Foster is very kindly entertaining her tenant."