"Show Mr. Rodney in here, Bridget," says Mona unflinchingly, not looking at the distressed maid, or indeed at anything but the unobservant butter. And Bridget, with a sigh that strongly resembles the snort of a war-horse, ushers Mr. Rodney into the dairy.
"You?" says Mona, with extreme hauteur and an unpleasant amount of well-feigned astonishment. She does not deign to go to meet him, or even turn her head altogether in his direction, but just throws a swift and studiously unfriendly glance at him from under her long lashes.
"Yes" replies he, slowly as though regretful that he cannot deny his own identity.
"And what has brought you?" demands she, not rudely or quickly, but as though desirous of obtaining information on a subject that puzzles her.
"An overwhelming desire to see you again," returns this wise young man, in a tone that is absolutely abject.
To this it is difficult to make a telling reply. Mona says nothing she only turns her head completely away from him, as if to conceal something. Is it a smile?—he cannot tell. And indeed presently, as though to dispel all such idea, she sighs softly but audibly.
At this Mr. Rodney moves a shade closer to her.
"What a very charming dairy!" he says, mildly.
"Very uncomfortable for you, I fear, after your long ride," says Mona, coldly but courteously. "Why don't you go into the parlor? I am sure you will find it pleasanter there."
"I am sure I should not," says Rodney.