“You know nothing about it,” cried his mother abruptly. “Come on, lovey, say good-night to Felix and thank him for being so kind to you.”
She hurried him upstairs to bed.
At supper, Uncle Alfred learned that his guests were proposing to leave him on the morrow.
“You are very impetuous, Rose,” he remarked with displeasure. “Why not have warned me of your intentions earlier? The girl, by my instructions, has ordered butcher’s meat for to-morrow, entirely on your child’s account.”
Rose entered whole-heartedly into this practical objection to her scheme.
“If it hasn’t been delivered yet, couldn’t we stop it?”
“I will speak to the girl.”
“It isn’t that we haven’t been happy, as you very well know, Uncle Alfred. But I daresay the country will get rid of Cecil’s cough before it’s got a hold on him, so to speak, and they’re expecting us back at Squires.”
“If you’ve told them you’re coming to-morrow, you must abide by it,” Uncle Alfred declared gloomily. “It’s worse than useless to have extra food ordered in twice over. Are they expecting you?”
“Yes, they are.”