"Would you like to have breakfast served you alone quietly in my own little room, dear?" she asked.
"Would I what? Hang it! do you want to get rid of me? Am I not good enough to sit down to breakfast with your absurd friends? Has that gentleman in the white trousers been attending a tennis party? It is somewhat early for tennis parties, is it not? Barely seven yet—is Homewood going to decorate a Church or is he merely masquerading as a Jack in the Green? Where's Scarsdale? Not down yet? I don't blame him, I never heard such an infernal din in my life—cocks crowing, birds shouting, dogs barking and—and cut my face twice, begad, twice—which means a deuced uncomfortable day for me and—and—and your father is to be poked away into a little back room and have his meals by himself, is he? I'm hurt, Kathleen, positively hurt; had you told me that my society was distasteful to you, had you only told me that you were asking me out of politeness, begad, out of compliment, why then I should have stayed away. I feel it, I am an old fellow and oversensitive perhaps, little things, little unkindnesses wound me, as perhaps a few years ago they would not. As one grows older one——"
"Come into breakfast, father," she said, and slipped her hand under his arm.
Scarsdale came down a little late. He held Kathleen's hand for a moment, looked her in the eyes and sat down.
"I slept badly," he said quietly, "in fact I could not sleep at all, it was strange to me to realise that the same roof that sheltered you—" he paused.
"Tea or coffee?" Kathleen asked brightly.
His lordship was like a bear with a very sore head, the Stanwys manner was not in evidence. He growled and cursed under his breath. He flung poisoned darts of wit, sneers and jibes at Coombe and they glanced harmless enough from that gentleman's toughened hide, but they went home when he turned his battery on Sir Josiah.
"Poisonous old devil he is," Coombe muttered to himself as he put away a huge breakfast.
CHAPTER XXV
BESIDE THE LAKE