“Oh—Miss Lauderdale!” he exclaimed. Then he smiled at Hester, who held out her hand, and he touched it with his lips, in a foreign fashion. “You’re not going away?” he asked, turning to Katharine again. “Just as I’ve come in. Do sit down again! Now, please give me a cup of tea, Hester—I’m tired and thirsty—and I’ve been awfully bored. Do sit down, Miss Lauderdale! Just a minute, to please me!”
“Well—I would,” answered Katharine, affecting a hesitation she did not feel, in order not to seem ungracious. “I would—but I really must be going. I’ve been here ever so long, already.”
“Yes—but you’ve got another welcome to wear out—mine,” he said, letting his voice soften and dwell on the last word.
“I really think Katharine’s in a hurry,” said Hester, who was pale.
Katharine glanced at her in some surprise. She had never in her life been so plainly told to go away, and she was inclined to resent the rudeness. She might never enter the house again, but she did not choose to be turned out of it by a woman who a few weeks earlier had professed with protestations that she was her dearest and closest friend.
“You can’t be in such a hurry as all that,” objected Crowdie, who supposed that Katharine had really said that she was pressed for time. “Besides, I’ve got something to show you.”
“Have you?” asked Katharine, suddenly glad of an excuse for staying a few moments, in spite of Hester’s anxiety to get rid of her.
Hester looked at her husband in surprise, and her finely chiselled lips moved and almost trembled.
“What do you mean, Walter?” she asked, in an uncertain tone.
“Oh—don’t you know? That head of poor uncle Robert, I did last night. I want to show it to Miss Lauderdale—she knew his face better than any of us.”