“Just what I was thinking,” nodded Freddy. “Going to tell ’em to put the horses to now. No sense in dawdling here any longer: might put the old gentleman in a bad temper if we were late.”
The Rector begged them to dine with him, but they were resolute in declining the invitation. Kitty put on her bonnet and pelisse, the chaise was brought to the front-gate, and after faithfully promising to return in time to support the bride and groom through the wedding ceremony on the morrow, Mr. Standen and his betrothed left the Rectory.
“Oh, Freddy, what a day this has been!” sighed Miss Charing, sinking back against the squabs of the chaise.
“Devilish!” he agreed. “Brushed through it pretty well, though. All we have to do now is to see ’em safely married, and then we can be comfortable. Mind, there may be a kick-up over the business, but we can’t help that.”
“I know it, and I wanted so much not to drag you into it!” said Kitty remorsefully. “I thought, if only you knew nothing about it, it would serve as a reason for you to put an end to our engagement!”
“Yes, I know you did. Told me so, in that letter you wrote me. Dashed cork-brained notion! Stands to reason if you’re in it I must be too.”
“No, Freddy, it does not,” said Kitty, in a constricted tone. “You know it is all a hoax, our engagement. I am determined to end it. I ought never, never to have thought of such a thing!”
“Now, Kit, don’t say we must quarrel, because I won’t do it!” begged Freddy.
“Oh, no, how could I quarrel with you? I think we should tell everyone that we—we find we are not suited.”
“No, we shouldn’t,” said Freddy. “Silly thing to say, because everyone must know it ain’t true. Got a better notion. Daresay you won’t like it, but it’s what I should like.”