Mrs. Falconer showed Mr. Arundel the high chest of drawers, and pointed to a hanging-closet, one of the top panels of which was glass, so that it might have a dim light from the room.
"I hope you will be comfortable," she said; "the sheets are well aired, and so were the mattresses and beds, by the fire. I never trust to servants, but see to those things myself. We sup at nine o'clock; and if you want anything please pull the bell."
"You are very kind," Mr. Arundel said. "I hope my visit is not inconvenient."
"Oh, no; the boys are coming home from school to-morrow. Three boys make some difference in a house; but I dare say you will be out a great deal with my son Melville." A scarcely perceptible sigh accompanied the words, and then Mrs. Falconer vanished; on the stairs she met Melville.
"I say, mother, what have you got for supper? I hope there will be something that Arundel can eat. And, by the bye, mother, his name is Arundel, not Arundel."
"Oh, is it, indeed! I don't know that it matters what a man is called. As to the supper, there's a round of beef, and a pie, and a baked custard, and plenty of bread and cheese."
"I wish you could have some made dish to-morrow. Big joints are all very well for a pack of hungry schoolboys."
Mrs. Falconer did not reply sharply, as she did sometimes. She turned and preceded Melville to his room, which was at the other end of the long passage or corridor, which ran across the house, dividing it into two parts, front and back. Melville followed her, and assumed a careless and indifferent air, throwing himself on the deep window-seat and giving a prolonged yawn.
A pack of cards lay on the drawers, with a dicebox.
"We had high words last night, Melville," his mother began; "and I was sorry——"