I thought with myself that, if I kept silent, no one could tell I was not a girl; and, the table being finally adjusted, I moved my seat towards it. Meantime the man was helping his companion to take off her outer garments, and put them before the fire. I saw the face of neither until they approached the table and sat down. Great was my surprise to discover that the man was the same I had met in the wood on my way to Moldwarp Hall, and that the girl was Clara—a good deal grown—in fact, looking almost a woman. From after facts, the meeting became less marvellous in my eyes than it then appeared.
I felt myself in an awkward position—indeed, I felt almost guilty, although any notion of having the advantage of them never entered my head. I was more than half inclined to run out and help Annel with the horses, but I was very hungry, and not at all willing to postpone my meal, simple as it was—bread and butter, eggs, cheese, milk, and a bottle of the stronger wine of the country, tasting like a coarse sherry. The two—father and daughter evidently—talked about their journey, and hoped they should reach the Grindelwald without more rain.
‘By the way,’ said the gentleman, ‘it’s somewhere not far from here young Cumbermede is at school. I know Mr Forest well enough—used to know him, at least. We may as well call upon him.’
‘Cumbermede,’ said Clara; ‘who is he?’
‘A nephew of Mrs Wilson’s—no, not nephew—second or third cousin—or something of the sort, I believe.—Didn’t somebody tell me you met him at the Hall one day?’
‘Oh, that boy—Wilfrid. Yes; I told you myself. Don’t you remember what a bit of fun we had the night of the ball? We were shut out on the leads, you know.’
‘Yes, to be sure, you did tell me. What sort of a boy is he?’
‘Oh! I don’t know. Much like other boys. I did think he was a coward at first, but he showed some pluck at last. I shouldn’t wonder if he turns out a good sort of fellow! We were in a fix!’
‘You’re a terrible madcap, Clara! If you don’t settle down as you grow, you’ll be getting yourself into worse scrapes.’
‘Not with you to look after me, papa dear,’ answered Clara, smiling. ‘It was the fun of cheating old Goody Wilson, you know!’