"By no means," Mr. Grey said, "he liked animals about him, unless Margaret was afraid of them."
"Oh, Sir! I am afraid of nothing," said Margaret, smiling at Mr. Grey under shelter of the urn.
Whether the sentiment, or the delightful voice in which it was uttered, struck Mr. Haveloc, is uncertain; but he moved his chair with the intention of gaining a better view of the fair speaker. The urn was, however, unfavourable to him, and she afforded him little more opportunity of hearing the sound of her voice during breakfast. As soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Haveloc asked Mr. Grey how soon it would be possible for him to call on Mr. Warde. He had yet to learn, he said, how these things were managed in England.
Mr. Grey was certain that Mr. Warde would be glad to see him at any time, such an old friend as he was.
Mr. Haveloc asked if Mrs. Somerton and her daughters were staying at the vicarage?
"No," Mr. Grey said; "they had been on a visit to one of their relations for some months."
Margaret thought she heard Mr. Haveloc mutter a thanksgiving as he turned away. He walked to the window and began caressing his dogs.
"And what are you going to do, my darling?" asked Mr. Grey.
"A great many things, Sir. First, I shall practise as soon as ever Land—oh! come here, Land; when can you spare time to come with me to the organ? Not before twelve—very well. I shall read till Land is ready for me, and then—oh! dear Sir, there is Miss Gage on her beautiful grey horse. Oh, Sir! it is not a very hard frost, it is very nearly spring. Will you soon buy me a pony? That is to say a horse, dear uncle; I should look so little on a pony. There is nothing in the world I wish for so much, and it is so long to wait until spring."