“I refuse to move,” said Mr. Pennefather, “until I know where I’m going and why.”
“You talk to him, Cousin Frank,” said Priscilla. “I see Jimmy Kinsella coming round the corner in his boat and I really must bail out the Tortoise.”
“If you don’t move out of this pretty quick,” said Frank to Mr. Pennefather, “Lord Torrington will have you to a dead cert.”
“‘And fast before her father’s men,” said Miss Rutherford, “‘three days we fled together. And should they find us in this glen——‘”
“Oh, Barnabas,” said Lady Isabel, who knew Campbell’s poem and anticipated the end of the quotation, “Oh, Barnabas, let’s go, anywhere, anywhere.”
“I never saw any man,” said Frank, “in such a wax as Lord Torrington.”
“I haven’t met him myself,” said Miss Rutherford, “but I expect that when he begins to speak he’ll shock you even worse than I did.”
“We don’t mind Father,” said Lady Isabel. “It’s Mother.”
“They’re both on your track,” said Frank.
Mr. Pennefather looked from one to another of the group around him. Then he turned slowly on his heel and began to roll up his tent. Lady Isabel and Miss Rutherford set to work to pack the camp equipage. Frank took off his coat and wrung the water out of it. Then he spread it on the ground and looked at it. It was the coat worn by members of the First Eleven. He had won his right to it when he caught out the Uppingham captain in the long field. Now such triumphs and glories seemed incredibly remote. The voices of Priscilla and Jimmy Kinsella reached him from the shore. They were arguing hotly.