“Eh! You? cried Captain Mulgrave. Do you mean that you thought of marrying my little lame girl? Here, Freda, what do you say to that?”
Freda blushed and kept her eyes on the ground.
“I say, father, that I am very much obliged to Mr. Thurley, but I would rather go back to the convent, if you please.”
“You hear that, Mr. Thurley? I told you so. The child was born for a nun—takes to the veil as a duck does to water.”
But John Thurley did not feel so sure of that, and he looked troubled.
When, later in the day, the dogcart stood at the door waiting for the two gentlemen, they found Freda standing beside it in her outdoor dress.
“What, little one, are you going with us?” asked Captain Mulgrave.
“Yes, if you will please take me, father.”
“Well, as you’re going to see so little more of the world, I suppose you must be humoured. Jump up in front. Mr. Thurley, will you drive, or shall I?”
“You drive one way, and I the other, if you will let me.”