IT was eight o'clock on the morning subsequent to the arrival of Mrs. Compton and her children at the Manor House, and Lionel and Ruth Compton raced each other down the wide staircase and collided at the bottom. The latter was thrown down; but picking herself up immediately, she turned to her brother and declared,—
"I got down first!"
"No, you did not!" he promptly contradicted.
"I did! Hush! Here comes grandfather!"
The children stood side by side, watching the old man as he came slowly across the hall towards them. He had entered the house by the front door, for he was an early riser, and had been strolling about the garden when the sound of the breakfast-bell fell upon his ears.
"Good-morning, grandfather!" said Lionel.
"Good-morning, grandfather!" echoed Ruth.
Sir Richard glanced at them keenly. They were tall, well-grown children, with fresh complexions, bright blue eyes, and fair hair; but they appeared uneasy beneath their grandfather's scrutiny, the truth being that they regarded him with awe and fear. They knew their mother dreaded his violent temper; and from their earliest days they had been taught that he must not be crossed or vexed in any way, the consequence being that they were never their lighthearted selves in his presence.
"Good-morning, children!" Sir Richard responded. "Is your mother down? No! Well, I shall not wait for her! Eight o'clock is my breakfast-hour, as she knows from experience! Why are you lingering here in the hall? Come, everything will be cold!"
They followed him into the breakfast-room, and took their seats at the table. As Sir Richard was put out that his daughter was late, he vented his irritability on the children. He scolded Lionel for slopping his coffee on the table-cloth; and when Ruth, from sheer nervousness, dropped her knife on the floor and was obliged to dive under the table to fetch it, re-appearing with a face crimson and abashed, he added to her confusion by asking if she took her meals in the nursery at home.