“You will be invited to dine at places,” said Miss Alicia,—“presently,” she added bravely, in fact, with an air of greater conviction than she felt.
“If it's not the law that they've got to invite me or go to jail,” said Tembarom, “I don't blame 'em for not doing it if they're not stuck on me. And they're not; and it's natural. But I've got to get in my fine work, or my year'll be over before I've 'found out for myself,' as Ann called it. There's where I'm at, Miss Alicia—and I've been thinking of Lady Joan and her mother. You said you thought they'd come and stay here if they were properly asked.”
“I think they would,” answered Miss Alicia with her usual delicacy. “I thought I gathered from Lady Mallowe that, as she was to be in the neighborhood, she would like to see you and Temple Barholm, which she greatly admires.”
“If you'll tell me what to do, I'll get her here to stay awhile,” he said, “and Lady Joan with her. You'd have to show me how to write to ask them; but perhaps you'd write yourself.”
“They will be at Asshawe Holt next week,” said Miss Alicia, “and we could go and call on them together. We might write to them in London before they leave.”
“We'll do it,” answered Tembarom. His manner was that of a practical young man attacking matter-of-fact detail. “From what I hear, Lady Joan would satisfy even Ann. They say she's the best-looker on the slate. If I see her every day I shall have seen the blue-ribbon winner. Then if she's here, perhaps others of her sort'll come, too; and they'll have to see me whether they like it or not—and I shall see them. Good Lord!” he added seriously, “I'd let 'em swarm all over me and bite me all summer if it would fix Ann.”
He stood up, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and looked down at the floor.
“I wish she knew T. T. like T. T. knows himself,” he said. It was quite wistful.
It was so wistful and so boyish that Miss Alicia was thrilled as he often thrilled her.
“She ought to be a very happy girl,” she exclaimed.