“I don't know, but I think that if I were you I would rather believe that it must have been an outsider than make myself ill with quite groundless suspicions of my own people, said Rumbold gently, but with a look that sent the blood rushing to Guy's cheeks.
“I'd rather have it cleared up,” said Stella decidedly.
Rumbold said, smiling down at her: “Well, that's a sure sign you don't really wonder whether your mother or your brother committed the crime,” he said.
“I never heard of such a thing!” said Miss Matthews. “Oh, you're not going, Mr Rumbold? Why, you've barely finished your tea!”
“He is probably going to supplement it elsewhere,” remarked Randall. “And I'm sure I don't blame him,” he added, casting a glance at the somewhat meagrely furnished cake-stand. “There is a certain Lenten spirit clinging to my dear Aunt Harriet's tea-parties which only the few know how to appreciate.”
Stella gave a giggle, and even Mrs Matthews bit her lip. Harriet Matthews sat bolt upright in her chair, and said: “I did not ask you to tea here, Randall, and I did not ask Mr Rumbold either, though I am always glad to see Trim, as I hope he knows. And if he finds my tea insufficient —”
“Thank you, thank you, but I have had an excellent tea!” Rumbold said hastily. “You know how much I like those little scones of yours, Miss Matthews. I tell my wife she never gives me anything half as good. Now, please don't any of you disturb yourselves! I can find my way out.”
In obedience to a glance from his mother Guy put down his plate and got up. But Randall also had risen, and waved Guy back to his chair. “Don't lose your chance of the last slice of cake,” he said. “You, after all, are going to dine here. I will show Mr Rumbold out.” He moved to the door as he spoke, and opened it, and held it for the elder man to pass through.
“There's really no need for you to bother,” said Rumbold, picking up his hat from the hall-table.
“It is a pleasure,” replied Randall. “The society of my relatives can only be enjoyed with frequent intervals.”