Deering’s eyes flashed angrily.
“Vane!” said Aunt Hannah, reproachfully.
“You forget that Mr Deering is our guest, Vane,” said the doctor.
“Yes, uncle, I forgot that.”
“Don’t reprove him,” said Deering. “I deserve it, and I invited the taunt by my manner toward your nephew.”
“Dinner’s ready,” said Aunt Hannah, hastily.
“Or supper,” said the doctor, and ten minutes later they were all seated at the meal, talking quietly about Scarboro’, its great cliffs and the sea, Mr Deering showing a considerable knowledge of the place. No allusion whatever was made to the cause of their guest’s visit till they had adjourned to the drawing-room, Mr Deering having stopped in the hall to take up a square tin box, and another which looked like a case made to contain rolled up plans.
The doctor frowned, and seeing that some business matters were imminent, Aunt Hannah rose to leave the room, and Vane followed her example.
“No, no, my dear Mrs Lee,” said Deering, “don’t leave us, and there is nothing to be said that the lad ought not to hear. It will be a lesson to him, as he is of a sanguine inventive temperament like myself, not to be too eager to place faith in his inventions.”
“Look here, Deering,” said the doctor, after clearing his voice, “this has been a terrible misfortune for us, and, I believe, for you too.”