"Expecting whom? We are not expecting anybody, I'm afraid, and the more pleased to see you." He made his quick little bow and turned, to present his brother. "This is Ernst Pforzheim and I am Carl."
Madge nodded, deliberately ignoring Miss Gayne's hurried approach and disapproving presence.
"How do you do? Have you bought Glenfallon?"
No, they had only leased it. They hoped the change and quiet might do their father some good. He hadn't been well ever since ... ever since they lost their mother.
"We have great hopes of this fine air and perfect quiet," said the elder. "The quiet is the very thing for our father—but for us it may become a little triste. So we play tennis. Do you play tennis, Miss ... a ... Miss...?"
"Do I play tennis?" Madge did not long leave any doubt on that score.
The adventure was not smiled on at home, but poor Miss Gayne got all the blame.
There was a touch of irony in the lady's being succeeded by some one recommended by, or at least through, these very undesirable and undoubtedly foreign acquaintances.
The same success which the Pforzheim young men had with their country neighbors generally, they had with Madge. Everybody seemed to like them. Lady McIntyre liked them from the first. "Such charming manners! And so devoted to their poor father!"
With his pleasant malice Napier described the Pforzheims at Kirklamont, and Lady McIntyre's graciousness that "'so hoped to make your father's acquaintance.'" The Pforzheims shook their heads over the poor gentleman's condition, "'confined to a darkened room.'"