"He is coming." The idea sends through her whole frame a little thrill of protective gladness. How happy, how independent she will feel with her champion always near her! A sneer loses half its bitterness when resented by two instead of one, and Luttrell will be a sure partisan. Apart from all which, she is honestly glad at the prospect of so soon meeting him face to face.
Therefore it is that with shining eyes and uplifted head she takes her place at the breakfast-table, which gives the pleasantest meal at Herst—old Amherst being ever conspicuous by his absence at it.
Philip, too, is nowhere to be seen.
"It will be a tête-à-tête breakfast," says Marcia, with a view to explanation. "Grandpapa never appears at this hour, nor—of late—does Philip."
"How unsociable!" says Molly, rather disappointed at the latter's defection. "Do they never come? All the year round?"
"Grandpapa never. But Philip, I presume, will return to his usual habits once the house begins to fill,—I mean, when the guests arrive."
"This poor little guest is evidently of small account," thinks Molly, rather piqued, and, as the thought crosses her mind, the door opens and Philip comes toward her.
"Good-morning," he says, cheerfully.
"You have breakfasted?" Marcia asks, coldly, in a rather surprised tone.
"Long since. But I will take a cup of coffee from you now, if you will allow me."