"No, indeed!" said Judith, rather startled. "Worth, what do you mean to do? Do you stay?"
"Oh, I think so!" replied the Earl.
Sir Peregrine's brow lightened. "Oh! Well, if you judge it to be safe I don't suppose you would keep Judith and the child here if you did not?"
"I don't suppose I should," agreed the Earl.
"What does Harriet wish to do?" enquired Lady Worth.
"Oh, if it can be considered safe for the children, she don't wish to go!" Sir Peregrine caught sight of his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, and gave the starched folds of his cravat a dissatisfied twitch. Before his marriage he had aspired to dizzy heights of dandyism, and although he now lived for the greater part of the year on his estates in Yorkshire, he was still inclined to spend much thought and time on his dress. "This new man of mine is no good at all!" he said, with some annoyance. "Just look at my cravat!"
"Is that really necessary?" said the Earl. "For the past hour I have been at considerable pains not to look at it."
A grin dispersed Sir Peregrin's worried frown. "Oh, be damned to you, Worth! I'll tell you what it is, you did a great deal for me when I was your ward, but if you had taught me the way you have of tying your cravats I should have been more grateful than ever I was for any of the rest of the curst interfering things you did."
"Very handsomely put, Perry. But the art is inborn, and can't be taught."
Sir Peregrine made a derisive sound, and, abandoning the attempt to improve the set of his cravat, turned from the mirror. He glanced down at his sister, tranquilly sewing, and said in a burst of confidence: "You know, I can't help being worried. I don't want to run home, but the thing is that Harriet is in a delicate situation again."