“The other young gentleman, miss, did not disclose his name,” replied the butler.
“Well, I suppose I must see them,” Arabella decided. “Pray tell them that I shall be downstairs directly! Or is her ladyship in?”
“Her ladyship has not yet returned, miss.”
Arabella hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry. She went up to her room to change her soiled gown, and came down again some few minutes later hoping that she had schooled her face not to betray her inward trepidation. She entered the saloon in a very stately way, and looked rather challengingly across it. There were, as the butler had warned her, two young gentleman standing by the window. One was a slightly vacuous looking youth, dressed with extreme nicety, and holding, besides his tall hat, an ebony cane, and an elegant pair of gloves; the other was a tall, loose-limbed boy, with curly dark hair, and an aquiline cast of countenance. At sight of him, Arabella uttered a shriek, and ran across the room to cast herself upon his chest. “ Bertram! ”
“Here, I say, Bella!” expostulated Bertram, recoiling. “Mind what you are about, for the lord’s sake! My neck-cloth!”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, but I am so glad to see you! But how is this? Bertram, Papa is not in town?”
“Good God, no!”
“Thank heaven!” Arabella breathed, pressing her hands to her cheeks.
Her brother found nothing to wonder at in this exclamation. He looked her over critically, and said: “Just as well he ain’t, for he’d be bound to give you one of his scolds for dressing-up as fine as fivepence! I must say, Bella, you’re turned out in prime style! Slap up to the mark, ain’t she, Felix?”
Mr. Scunthorpe, much discomposed at being called upon to give an opinion, opened and shut his mouth once or twice, bowed, and looked despairing.