“Oh, yes; all right,” growled Alison.
“Pleasant sort of a brother-in-law in prospective,” said Sir Cheltnam to himself, as he cantered off.
“Takes it as a matter of course that he is to have her,” muttered Alison. “I’m not so sure.”
He bit one of his nails and watched the visitor till he was out of sight, and still stood at the foot of the steps frowning.
“Even he sees it,” he muttered. “I won’t stand any more of his arbitrary ways. He is only a year older than I am, and yet he is to lord it over me as if I were a child. Why should he take the lead in everything? Is he to do so always? Not if I know it. If all this means that a new king reigns in Hightoft, it is not going to be brother Neil.”
Almost in perfect ignorance of what was going on downstairs, Neil remained patiently watching by his father’s side. Aunt and sister had both begged him to go and lie down, insisting upon the fact that he would be quite helpless at night, and that it was his duty, so as to be ready to watch again, but he only smiled.
“My dear Aunt,” he said at last to that lady, who was greatly agitated in his behalf, “a doctor grows used to watching by his patient’s bedside, and gets little snatches of sleep which refresh him. Believe me, I am not a bit tired.”
At that moment Isabel entered the room with a telegram.
“For you, Neil, dear,” she said.
“It has been opened.”