She glided away. I threw on my coat, and re-crossed the park.
But I was so eager to see again the fair face in the mob cap, that, although not at all certain of its reappearance, I told my man to go at once and bring the mare. He made haste, and by the time I had finished my dinner she was at the door. I gave her the rein, and two or three minutes brought me back to the Hall, where, having stabled her, I was at my post again, I believe, before they had finished luncheon. I had a great heap of books ready in the second room to carry into the first, and had almost concluded they would not come, when I heard their voices—and presently they entered, but not in their mob caps.
‘What an unmerciful master you are!’ said Clara, looking at the heap. ‘I thought you had gone home to lunch.’
‘I went home to dinner,’ I said. ‘I get more out of the day by dining early.’
‘How is that, Mr Cumbermede?’ asked Miss Brotherton, with a nearer approach to cordiality than she had yet shown.
‘I think the evening the best part of the day—too good to spend in eating and drinking.’
‘But,’ said Clara, quite gravely, ‘are not those the chief ends of existence?’ ‘Your friend is satirical, Miss Brotherton,’ I remarked.
‘At least, you are not of her opinion, to judge by the time you have taken,’ she returned.
‘I have been back nearly an hour,’ I said. ‘Workmen don’t take long over their meals.’
‘Well, I suppose you don’t want any more of us now,’ said Clara. ‘You will arrange the books you bring from the next room upon these empty shelves, I presume?’