"Now, Mr. Cheveril," broke in Mrs. Fellowes, "if you had only had the intuition to drive on to Royapooram you would have found the absent bird there."
"I did think of it, for the boy volunteered the information that Mr. Rayner was in Calcutta and 'Missus done gone to Royapooram,'" returned Mark. He glanced now at Hester with keen eyes, and was satisfied to note that she was looking better and happier than when he had last seen her.
"But if he had made that round, Mrs. Fellowes, where should I have come in?" asked Mr. Morpeth. "The fact is I look upon him as my peculiar property for the day, seeing I lured him all the way from Puranapore to open our new Reading-room for our young men. Wasn't that a good move, Mrs. Fellowes?"
"Excellent—I am glad! And if I didn't know that you eschewed females on these occasions, I should suggest that we should come to hear Mr. Cheveril's speech, shouldn't you, Hester?"
"Indeed I should! But mayn't we, Mr. Morpeth?" asked Hester, her winning smile evoking a return one from the old man. "You are master of ceremonies, are you not?"
"It wouldn't do, believe me," replied Mr. Morpeth, shaking his head. "Our masculine efforts would have no chance. The lads would be too much fascinated by the unwonted presence of English ladies."
"Singular number, please, Mr. Morpeth," said Mrs. Fellowes promptly. "I don't think an old body like me would distract them. But I suppose he knows best, Hester, we must give in. He is very impartial, you see, he won't come to our Girls' Friendly. We must accept the scruples of an expert."
Mootoo was now bringing in tea, which was daintily served on a richly carved old silver tray. The cups and saucers being of old Chelsea china, while the lovely Cutch work silver service belonged to the more artistic period of that style.
"Every time I come here I ask the same question like a regular Mrs. Gamp," laughed Mrs. Fellowes. "Where do you get this delicious blend of tea? It's the most refreshing cup I ever get anywhere," and she sipped the fragrant beverage from the delicate Chelsea cup. "And those scones, aren't they perfect, Mr. Cheveril? Never did I taste their like except in the Highlands of Scotland!"
Mootoo, who was serving, showed his keen gratification by a quiver of his eyelids, these scones being his special triumph, for Mootoo could cook excellently as well as do "butler" work, and with juggler-like rapidity had turned out the scones and cakes which Mrs. Fellowes declared would bring down reproaches upon her from her husband when he observed she had no appetite left for dinner.