Fortunately Sir John was chatting loudly to Mrs Alleyne, Oldroyd was in a warm argument with Rolph on the subject of training, and Alleyne was holding Glynne’s attention by describing to her the theory that the stars were in all probability suns with planets revolving round them, as we do about our own giver of warmth and light. Hence, then, the major’s little interlude with Lucy was unnoticed, and Eliza was able to remove the evidences of the disaster with a dustpan and brush.
“My dear Miss Alleyne, give me credit for being an officer and a gentleman,” said the major, quietly; “the dish I alluded to was one of some choice fungi, such as we discover for ourselves in the woods and fields. I meant nothing else—believe me.”
Lucy darted a grateful look in his eyes, and followed it up with a smile, which sent a peculiar little sting into Oldroyd’s breast.
“For,” the latter argued with himself, “elderly gentlemen do sometimes manage to exercise a great deal of influence over the susceptible hearts of maidens, and Major Day is a smart, attractive, old man.”
His attention was, however, taken up directly by Rolph, who, in a half-haughty, condescending tone asked him if he had studied training from its medical and surgical side, nettling him by his manner, and putting him upon his mettle to demolish his adversary in argument.
“Thank you, major,” whispered Lucy. “I might have known—I ought to have known better.”
And then, with the ice broken between herself and her old botanical tutor and friend, she seemed to jump with girlish eagerness at the opportunity for lightening her burdened heart.
“Everything has gone so dreadfully,” she whispered. “I have been sitting upon thorns ever since you all came. It has been heartbreaking, and I shall be so glad when it is all over, and you are gone.”
“Tut—tut! you inhospitable little creature,” said the major. “For shame. I shall not. Why, surely my little pupil does not think we came over here for the sake of the dinner. Fie!—fie!—fie! Brother John, there, enjoys a crust of bread and cheese and a glass of ale better than anything; while I, an old campaigner, used, when I was on service, to think myself very lucky if I got a biscuit and a slice of melon, or a handful of dates, for a meal.”
“But Sir John said you were so particular, and that was why he sent the fruit.”