“I felt sure you would. I said so to your uncle, and your aunt said she was certain you would,” continued the rector; “but, as I was saying, I shall exact one thing: as my cook is a very particular woman, and would look startled if I even proposed to go into the kitchen—”
He paused, and Vane, who was in misery, glanced at Macey—to see that he was thoroughly enjoying it all, while Distin’s countenance expressed the most sovereign contempt.
“I say, Vane Lee,” said the rector again, as if he expected an answer, “I shall exact one thing.”
“Yes, sir. What?”
“That the rule of the queen of the kitchen be respected; but—ah, let me see, Mr Distin, I think we were to take up the introductory remarks made on the differential calculus.”
And the morning’s study at the rectory went on.
“Best bit of fun I’ve had for a long time,” cried Macey, as he strolled out with Vane when the readings were at an end.
“Yes, at my expense,” cried Vane sharply. “My leg hurts still with that kick.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” cried Macey; “I kicked old Distie twice as hard by mistake, and he’s wild with Gilmore because he thinks it’s he.”
Vane gripped him by the collar.