“But, your Honour—but, sir—it weren’t like that at all! It was the abigail we thought was Loodervic Lavenham, on account of her being such a great, strapping wench, and when Miss here came so cautious out of the back door, like as if she was scared someone might see her, it was natural we should be mistook in her. What would the lady go out walking for when it was almost dark?”
Sir Hugh turned to look at his sister, his judicial instincts roused. “I must say, it seems demmed odd to me,” he conceded. “What were you doing, Sally?”
Miss Thane, prompted partly by a spirit of pure mischief, and partly by a desire to be revenged on Sir Tristram for his inhuman suggestion of throwing cold water over her, turned her face away and implored her brother not to ask her that question.
“That’s all very well,” objected Thane, “but did you go out by the back door?”
“Yes,” said Miss Thane, covering her face with her hands.
“Why?” asked Sir Hugh, faintly puzzled.
“Oh,” said Miss Thane, the very picture of maidenly confusion, “must I tell you, indeed? I went to meet Sir Tristram.”
“Eh?” said Thane, taken aback.
Miss Thane found that she had underrated her opponent. Not a muscle quivered in Shield’s face. He said immediately: “This news should have been broken to you at a more suitable time, Thane. Spare your sister’s blushes, I beg of you!”
Miss Thane, for once put out of countenance, intervened in a hurry. “We cannot discuss such matters now! Do, pray, send those creatures away! I will believe they meant me no harm, but I vow and declare the very sight of them gives me a Spasm!”