"What odd expressions you use! I daresay that comes from your being an American. Never mind, you'll soon lose all Americanisms here. I look upon you as quite one of ourselves, dear Mr Pratt."
The fact is that Mrs Bathurst wished to bring about a marriage between her daughter Peggy and the newcomer. He had been introduced by Mrs Gabriel, so his social position was secure; and if one could judge from the magnificent furnishing of the house, he was a wealthy man. That Peggy herself should be consulted never entered her mother's head.
Pratt guessed what Mrs Bathurst was after, and chuckled. He had no intention of having the good lady for a mother-in-law. Moreover, he knew that Peggy was in love with Raston, the curate. Nevertheless, having a love of tormenting people, and wishing to punish Mrs Bathurst, he sighed, cast a languishing look at Peggy, and allowed the mother to think that he might be guided by her wish. Seeing this, the lady pushed her advantage vigorously, and was getting on very well by the time the other guests arrived. Then, after some desultory conversation, dealing with the weather and the crops, all went in to dinner.
The table was beautifully set out. The linen was snowy white, the silver and crystal of the best, and the flowers, which Pratt had personally arranged, were skilfully chosen and blended. The women present were rather annoyed that a man should be able to manage a house so well, for the dinner was one of the best that had ever been eaten in Colester, and the service was all that could be desired. What was the use, thought Mrs Bathurst, of suggesting a wife to a man who knew so well how to dispense with one? She could not have arranged things better herself, and it was vexing that a mere man should be able to beat a woman on her own ground.
"You have certainly made a very pretty place of it, Mr Pratt," said Mrs Gabriel, when they returned to the drawing-room. "I suppose you will live here for many a long day?"
"I hope to die here," he replied, smiling. "But one never knows. I may take a fancy to resume my travels."
"You are like Ulysses," put in the vicar, "you know men and cities."
"And, like Ulysses, I don't think much of either, Mr Tempest."
"Come now!" cried Leo, laughing. "I never heard that Ulysses was a cynic."
"He was not modern enough," said Sybil, who was looking particularly charming, much to the anger of Mrs Gabriel, who saw in her a man-trap for her adopted son.