"Not a bit—no, no."
"We'll go right to our room as soon as we get there," said she, "and you mustn't trouble to do a thing extra for us."
"It's going to be a great pleasure to have you under our roof," the young man assured her, smiling.
Arrived at the great stone mansion which was the well-known residence of Matthew Kendrick, as it had been of his family for several generations, Richard stared up at it with a sense of strangeness. Except for the halls and dining-room, his grandfather's quarters and his own, he could not remember seeing it lighted as other homes were lighted, with rows of gleaming windows here and there, denoting occupancy by many people. Now, one whole wing, where lay the special suite of guest-rooms used at long intervals for particularly distinguished persons, was brilliantly shining out upon the December night.
The car drew up beneath a massive covered entrance-porch, and a great door swung back. A heavy-eyed, elderly butler admitted the party, which were ushered into an impressive but gloomy and inhospitable looking reception-room. Matthew Kendrick glanced somewhat uncertainly at his nephew, who promptly took things in charge.
"I thought perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Gray would have some sandwiches and—er—something more—with us, before they go to their rooms," Richard suggested, nodding at Parks, the heavy-eyed.
"Yes, yes—" agreed Mr. Kendrick, but Mrs. Rufus broke in upon him.
"Oh, no, Mr. Kendrick!" she cried softly, much distressed. "Please don't think of such a thing—at this hour. And we've just had refreshments at Eleanor's. Don't let us keep you up a minute. I'm sure you must be tired after this long evening."
"Not at all, Madam. Nor do you yourself look so," responded Matthew
Kendrick, in his somewhat stately manner. "But you may be feeling like
sleep, none the less. If you prefer you shall go to your rest at once."
He turned to his grandson again. "Dick—"
"I'll take them up," said that young man, eagerly. He offered his arm to
Aunt Ruth.