"Why—why do you name—him?" she questioned dully; but before he could answer came a knock at the door and Mrs. Agatha appeared to say that "tea was a-drinking on the terrace!"
They found Lady Belinda seated on the terrace before a tea equipage with Mrs. Agatha and a footman in attendance while beside her sat the Viscount, one arm in a sling, dutifully sipping a dish of tea and making wry faces over it.
"Gad love me, 'tis the washiest stuff!" he sighed.
"O dear Major, hark to the naughty wanton!" cried Lady Belinda as the Major bowed over her hand, "First he nigh breaks his neck knocking at fences and now miscalleth tea!"
"Knocks at fences, aunt?"
"Truly, he tells me his horse budged, took off something or other, was very short about it, knocked at a fence and fell—which is not to be wondered at."
"Faith, Viscount," said Mr. Marchdale looking puzzled "'tis a fierce and dangerous beast that grey o' yours but I don't quite see——"
"Nay," smiled the Viscount, "'twas that stiffish fence beyond Meadowbrook Bottom—the Colonel put his Arab at it and cleared but my grey balked, took off short, rapped, came down on his head and I came by a sprained arm and shoulder."
"'Twas all that Colonel Cleeve's fault, I dare swear," cried Lady Belinda, "he's a wild soul, I fear!"
"On the contrary, Aunt Belinda, he's a very noble fellow. And he bade me be sure carry you his humble duty." Here Lady Belinda blushed quite becomingly and perceiving the Viscount had contrived to swallow his tea, forthwith filled him more despite his expostulations.