“Which, dear?”
There was a tap at the door, and Sarah Woodham entered.
“Master wished me to tell you that Mr Trevithick will not stay for dinner, Miss Claude, and said would you come down.”
“Directly, Sarah,” said Claude, rising. “You will not come, Mary?” she whispered.
“Indeed, but I shall.”
“Mary, dear,” protested her cousin.
“Why, if I stop away the monster will think all sort of things; that I care for him, that he has impressed me favourably, that I have gone to my room to dream. No, my dear coz, there are some things which must be nipped in the bud, and this is one of them. It is his whim—his maggot. Oh, Claude, he is six feet two. What a huge maggot to nip.”
They were already part of the way down, to find Gartram and his great legal man of business standing in the hall.
“Better alter your mind, Trevithick, and have a chop with us. Try and persuade him, Claude.”
“We shall be extremely glad, Mr Trevithick,” said Claude; but her words did not sound warm, and her father looked at her as if surprised.