Edward was a man of his word; and though an occasional hint of "my sister's honour" slipped into his manner, he hovered for the most part between dignified-host and benevolent-cleric.
Gareth thought the Morrison family rather nice, considering; and accepted the invitation to supper: "If you don't mind taking us as we are," said Nelly, and retired to supervise culinary operations. Presently her voice was heard summoning Muriel and Nicolas.
"Yes, but Mummie, why——?"
"Because I say so, darling."
"Yes, but it isn't nearly——"
"Never mind. Come along. Ask Aunty Katty if she will come to the nursery presently to tuck you up."
Now or never, thought Nelly, was Kathleen's chance to display the suspected Maternal Instinct to the best advantage. But Nicolas and Kathleen, joint rebels against Nelly's schemes, gazed sulkily at one another, and parted with a cold good night.
"Excuse me, will you?" said Edward, rising; "I'm badly in need of a wash. City dirt, you know." He also quitted the dining-room. He had received his instructions. Obviously Nelly cherished hopes that a disgraceful episode might yet be decently wound up.
One swift glance convinced Gareth that old Mr. Jeyne was fast asleep in his corner.
"Kathleen—I've had a most wonderful stroke of good luck. I've found a job. The kind of job that I've dreamt of all my life. The job that lay east of the sun and west of the moon; at the end of the rainbow; over the hills and far away. And only yesterday I was disinherited. Yes, really, my father cast me off ... said I should never be heir to those huge glass bottles, red and blue and yellow, that fill up his shop-window.... I did so want them for my own when I was a kid. Never mind, fortune helps those who don't help themselves ... and I put my faith in the fairy-tales. How would Whittington have fared without faith in his Cat? Tell me that. Or Jack without faith in his Beanstalk——?"