She embraced the girl affectionately; and as Guest followed to the door, and held out his hand, Miss Jerrold whispered:
“Come up again when you’ve seen them to the carriage.”
In five minutes Guest was back looking at his hostess wonderingly, for the old lady was standing in the middle of the room with her face full of wrinkles, and her arms folded across her chest. She did not seem to see him, and he made a slight movement to attract her attention, when she waved her hand toward a chair.
“Sit down, boy,” she said, without looking in his direction; “I’m thinking. I’ll attend to you directly.”
He obeyed, more puzzled than ever; and at last she took a chair by the back, dragged it across the carpet in a masculine way, and thumped it down in front of him.
“It’s not a pleasant subject for a lady—an unmarried lady—to talk about, Percy Guest,” she said; “but I’m getting such an old woman now that I think it’s time I might speak plainly.”
“What about?” said Guest, wondering of what breach of good manners he had been guilty.
“What about, you silly boy? Here’s poor Myra eating her heart out, Edie miserable, my brother a perfect bear, I’m worried to death, and you say, what about! Malcolm Stratton, to be sure.”
“Oh!” cried Guest, very much relieved.
“Well, I do not see anything to look pleased about, sir.”