It was very silent there in the grey-walled courtyard.
‘I say,’ whispered Charles, ‘let’s go. We’ve got the better of him, anyhow. Let’s do a bunk before he comes back with some one we can’t get the better of, thousands of stately butlers perhaps.’
‘Never,’ said Charlotte, whose hands were cold and trembling with excitement. But Caroline said:
‘I wish Mr. Checkles might turn out to be a gentleman, the everyday kind that we know. Lords’ servants seem more common than other people’s, and I expect the Lord’s something like them. They say, Like master like man.’
As if in answer to Caroline’s wish, a door in the wall opened, showing a glimpse of more garden beyond, and a jolly-faced youth came towards them. He was a very big young man, and his clothes, which were of dust-coloured Harris tweed, were very loose. He looked like a sixth-form boy, and Charles at once felt that here was a man and a brother. So he got up and went towards the new-comer with the simple greeting, ‘Hullo!’
‘Hullo!’ said the sixth-form boy, with a friendly and cheerful grin.
‘I say,’ said Charles confidentially, as he and the big boy met on the grass, ‘there isn’t really any reason why we shouldn’t wait here if we want to?’
‘None in the world,’ said the big boy; ‘if you’re sure that what you’re waiting for is likely to come, and that this is the best place to wait for it in.’
‘We’re waiting for Lord Andore,’ said Caroline, who had picked up the bouquet and advanced with it. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come, because we don’t understand English menservants. In India they behave differently when you call.’
‘What have the servants here done?’ the youth asked, frowning, with his hands in his pockets.