“Augustus wanted to see him particularly; but I forgot, you don't know—however, you will soon, child. Still, isn't it a downright shame of Doctor Urquhart neither to come nor send?”
I suggested something might have happened.
“A railway accident. Dear me, I never thought of that.”
“Nor I. Heaven knows, no!”
I had a time-table, and searched through it for the last train stopping at Whitchester, then counted how long it would take to drive to Treherne Court, and looked at my watch. No, he could not be here to-night.
“And if there had been any accident, there was time for us to have heard of it,” said Lisa, carelessly, as she took up her fan and gloves to go downstairs. “So, child, we must make the best we can of your friend's behaviour. Are you ready for dinner?”.
“In two minutes.”
I shut the door after my sister, and stood still, before the glass, fastening a brooch, or something.
Mine, my friend. He was that. Whenever they were vexed with him, all the family usually called him so.
It was very strange his not coming—having promised Augustus, for some reason which I did not know of. Also, there was another reason—which they did not know of—he had promised me. He once said to me, positively, that this, the first Christmas he has kept in England for many years, should be kept with us—with me.