Enderby smiled half sadly at her, and answered “The fear of a woman is one of the worst fears in this world. Booh!”
So ludicrously did he imitate her own manner of a few moments before that humour drove away the flush of anger from her face, and she sat upon his chair-arm and said:
“But we will not part; we will stand here till the King and Lord Rippingdale do their worst—is it not so, father?”
He patted her head caressingly.
“Thou sayest right, my lass; we will remain at Enderby. Where is thy brother Garrett?”
“He has ridden over to Mablethorpe, but will return within the hour,” she replied.
At that moment there was a sound of hoofs in the court-yard. Running to a rear window of the library Mistress Felicity clapped her hands and said:
“It is he—Garrett.”
Ten minutes afterwards the young man entered. He was about two years older than his sister; that is, seventeen. He was very tall for his age, with dark hair and a pale dry face, and of distinguished bearing. Unlike his father, he was slim and gracefully built, with no breadth or power to his shoulders, but with an athletic suppleness and a refinement almost womanlike. He was tenacious, overbearing, self-willed, somewhat silent and also somewhat bad-tempered.
There was excitement in his eye as he entered. He came straight to his father, giving only a nod to Mistress Felicity, who twisted her head in a demure little way, as though in mockery of his important manner.