"Oh, well, you're lord of the manor; I dare say you're right to look the part. But here they come, in a bunch. Mrs. Rogers is, perhaps, a shade ahead."
Mr. Crawshay turned and called through the open door. His daughter, in a dainty confection of muslin and lace, and a straw hat trimmed with pink silk, came running out, followed by her mother, an impressive figure in blue, and our three campers, in flannels and blazers. Armstrong also had an arm in a sling.
Grouped in front of the porch they awaited the coming of the party that had just entered the drive. Mrs. Rogers, in stiff black silk, and a wonderful bonnet, marched along a little in advance of her husband, hardly recognisable in his Sunday suit of blue serge and a bowler hat sitting uneasily on the back of his head. Samuel Blevins, the general dealer, had affected a long frock coat and a tall hat. Henery Drew, magnificent in a brown bowler and a suit of large-checked tweed, walked beside Hardstone, the constable, disguised in habiliments that might have become a prosperous plumber. The rest of the company, whose names we do not know, were alike in one respect; all had donned their "Sunday best." Every face, without exception, wore an air of deep solemnity.
Mr. Crawshay took a step forward.
"Glad to see you, neighbours," he said, genially. "We are lucky in a fine afternoon."
He shook hands with them individually, a greeting that inflicted on them various degrees of embarrassment, deepened by the smiling welcome of his wife and daughter. Mr. Pratt contented himself with a general salutation; it was not until the boys began to crack jokes with them that the prevailing gloom lightened.
"You didn't bring your sister, Rogers?" said Mr. Crawshay to the innkeeper.
"True, sir; she bain't come along."
"She couldn't face 'ee, sir," added Mrs. Rogers. "I always did say as she was making a rod for her back, though never did I think Rod was such a downright wicked feller. And Henery Drew, as would have made her a good husband as far as husbands do go, and now he can't marry her without committing bigamy."
"Well, well! We must hope for the best," said Mr. Crawshay. "Now, my friends, we're all here. Take your seats, and we'll have tea."