“Why, Katharine!” exclaimed Mrs. Lauderdale, in surprise. “Do you mean to say you’re here?”
“Yes—didn’t you know? Doctor Routh sent me up in his carriage. He met me on the steps just as he was going in to see you. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No—how very extraordinary!”
Mrs. Lauderdale’s face assumed a grave expression not untinged with displeasure.
“This is very strange,” said her husband. “And Leek has just been telling us that uncle Robert could see no one.”
“I beg pardon, sir,” said the butler, coming forward respectfully. “There were orders that when Miss Katharine came, Mr. Lauderdale was not to be disturbed.”
“Yes,” answered Alexander Junior, coldly. “I understand. Come, Emma—come, Katharine—we shall be late for luncheon.”
“It isn’t half-past twelve yet,” observed Katharine, glancing at the great old clock, which at that moment gave ‘warning’ of the coming chime for the half-hour.
“It’s of no consequence what time it is,” said her father, more coldly than ever. “Come!”
They went out together, and the door closed behind them. Alexander Lauderdale stood still upon the pavement and faced his daughter, with a peculiarly hard look in his eyes.