Yes; master was at home, and missus and Miss Lucy, the girl hastened to reply.
“I want to see Mr Alleyne,” said Sir John sharply, and Eliza showed them into the drawing-room, up and down whose faded carpet Sir John walked, fuming, while the major bent down over a few pretty little water-colour sketches, evidently the work of Lucy at some idle time.
Meanwhile Eliza had hurriedly made a communication to Mrs Alleyne, and terribly alarmed Lucy, who was for preventing Alleyne from meeting the brothers.
“No,” said Mrs Alleyne sternly, “he must see them. If he is to blame, let him frankly own it. If the fault be on their side, let them apologise to my son.”
The result was that at her earnest prayer Lucy was allowed to run into the observatory to her brother, to prepare him for the visitors.
“Sir John—Major Day,” said Alleyne, calmly. “I will come to them. No: let them be shown in here.”
Perhaps he felt that he would be stronger on his own ground, surrounded by his instruments, than in the chilly drawing-room, where he knew he was out of place.
“But, Moray, dear, you will not be angry and passionate. You will not quarrel with Sir John.”
“Angry?” said Alleyne calmly. “I cannot tell. He might say things to me that will make me angry; but do not be afraid, I shall not quarrel.”
“You promise me that, dear?”