He had not seen her when he had come out of the bushes on to the scene of the struggle; he had been too deeply interested in it to remove his eyes from it; and she had watched it from behind him.
“This is Sir James Morgan, mother,” said the Terror quickly.
Sir James raised his cap; Mrs. Dangerfield bowed, and said gratefully: “It was very good of you to give my children leave to fish.”
“Oh—ah—yes—n-n-not at all,” stammered Sir James, blushing faintly.
He was unused to women and found her presence confusing.
“Oh, but it was,” said Mrs. Dangerfield. “And I’m seeing that they don’t take an unfair advantage of your kindness, for they told me that, thanks to Mr. Glazebrook’s netting his part of it, there are none too many fish in the stream.”
“It’s very good of you. B-b-but I don’t mind how many they catch,” said Sir James.
He shuffled his feet and gazed rather wildly round him, for he wished to remove himself swiftly from her disturbing presence. Yet he did not wish to; he found her voice as charming as her eyes.
Mrs. Dangerfield laughed gently, and said: “You would, if I let them catch as many as they’d like to.”
“Are they as good fishermen as that?” said Sir James.