CHAPTER X
Trent's appearance upon the lawn was greeted with a shout of enthusiasm. The young lady in blue executed a pas seut, and came across to him on her toes, and the girl with the yellow hair, although sulky, gave him to understand by a sidelong glance that her favour was not permanently withdrawn. They neither of them noticed the somewhat ominous air of civility with which he received their greetings, or the contempt in his eyes as he looked them silently over.
“Where are the lost tribe?” he inquired, as the girls, one on either side, escorted him to the house.
They received his witticism with a piercing shriek of laughter.
“Mamma and her rag of a daughter are in the drawing room,” explained Miss Montressor—the young lady with fluffy hair who dressed in blue and could dance. “Such a joke, General! They don't approve of us! Mamma says that she shall have to take her Julie away if we remain. We are not fit associates for her. Rich, isn't it! The old chap's screwing up his courage now with brandy and soda to tell you so!”
Trent laughed heartily. The situation began to appeal to him. There was humour in it which he alone could appreciate.
“Does he expect me to send you away?” he asked.
“That's a cert!” Miss Montressor affirmed. “The old woman's been playing the respectable all day, turning up the whites of her eyes at me because I did a high kick in the hall, and groaning at Flossie because she had a few brandies; ain't that so, Flossie?”
The young lady with yellow hair confirmed the statement with much dignity.