“Not now; only Mary shall bring in the vegetables.”
“Hadn’t William better help?” said the butler.
“No, not to-day. There will be a pack more people here to-morrow, and she can’t come then. Here, child, take these clean napkins and be ready to carry them into the dining-room.”
“But my face, aunt—won’t they see?”
“What—that you have been crying?” said the housekeeper, critically. “No; they won’t. Stop here a minute while I go out into the hall.”
The girl, from being scarlet, was now pale, but quite a little “rustic beauty” all the same; and she stood by the linen press looking very troubled, while Mrs Lloyd went back into the hall, where Trevor had stepped out to speak to the butler.
“Oh, there you are, Mrs Lloyd,” he said, in a quiet, decided tone of voice. “I was just speaking to Lloyd about one or two little matters. Of course, I feel the highest respect for both you and your worthy husband.”
“Thank you, Master Dick,” said the housekeeper, stiffly.
“Yes, that’s it,” said Trevor. “And of course you can’t help looking upon me as the boy you were almost father and mother to at one time.”
“Of course not,” said Mrs Lloyd, stiffly; “but you don’t mean to turn us away now you have grown a man?”