“Very well, my dear,” interposed his mother, before Fanny could speak. “Do you mean to go home? For I must tell you that although I should like nothing better than to bring my visit to an end to-morrow I cannot do it without putting your Aunt Maria into a miff.”
“No, no, I don’t mean to drag you off with me, Mama!” he assured her. “To tell you the truth, I thought I might take a trip into Leicestershire, to see Wilfred Babbacombe. Bound to be there, now cubbing has started.” He read condemnation in his sister’s eye, and added hastily: “It seems a pity I shouldn’t do so, now that I’m in the district.”
“In the district! Easterby must be sixty miles from Leicester, and very likely more!”
“Well, now that I’m in the north,” amended the Captain.
“But you will not let Mama return to Mildenhurst without an escort!”
“No, of course I won’t. My man shall go with her. You won’t object to having Cocking to ride beside the chaise in my stead, will you, Mama? You’ll be quite safe with him.”
“By all means, my dear. But had you not better take him with you?”
“Lord, no! I’ll take what I want in a saddle-bag, and shan’t have the least need of him,”
“When,” demanded Fanny, a look of foreboding in her eyes, “do you mean to return to Mildenhurst?”
“Oh, I don’t know!” said her maddening brother. “In a week or so, I daresay. Why?”