“If we are to talk of gudgeons,” countered Biddenden, “there is a bigger one in this room even than Dolphinton!”
“Well, why don’t you sport a little blunt on the chance?” suggested Freddy. “I’ll lay you handsome odds!”
“The style of this conversation is quite improper,” interposed the Rector. “Unless you are in the expectation of being received by my great-uncle tonight, Freddy, I suggest that we should all of us retire to bed. I will add that while I cannot but deprecate the freedom George uses in discussing such a matter I believe that whatever may be our cousin’s sentiments upon the occasion, my uncle is much chagrined at Jack’s absence from Arnside, and is very likely to wait upon the chance of his making a belated appearance tomorrow.”
“No use doing that,” replied Freddy. “He don’t mean to come.”
“You are no doubt in his confidence!”
“No, I ain’t in his confidence, but I’ve seen the nice bit of game he’s been throwing out lures to this month and more,” said Freddy frankly.
Hugh looked disgusted, and Biddenden curious. Before either of them could speak, however, the door opened, and to the surprise of everyone except Freddy, Miss Charing tripped into the room.
She was still attired in the rather drab gown she had worn earlier in the evening, but she had dignified the occasion by tieing up her locks with a red ribbon. All trace of chagrin had departed from her face, and it was with a beaming smile that she greeted Mr. Standen. “Freddy, how glad I am to see you!” she exclaimed, holding out her hand to him. “I had quite given you up!”
Mr. Standen bowed in his inimitable style over her hand, saying: “Beg a thousand pardons! Been out of town! Came as soon as I had read my uncle’s letter.”
Miss Charing appeared to be much affected. “You came at once! So late, and—and with the snow falling! Oh, Freddy!”