“Howard, my dear! what’s all this? Tut, tut!” exclaimed Mrs. Kincton Knox.
The arrival of the bonbons, however, did more to re-establish peaceful relations; and the boy, who was anxious to get away, delivered his news as rapidly as he could.
“Yes, Vane Trevor’s come. When I and Herbert were in the long larch walk he met us, and they seemed very glad to meet.”
“Ah! Like people who knew one another before?” asked Miss Clara, eagerly, in tones little above a whisper.
“Yes, and Vane called Herbert, Maubray—yes he did.”
“Maubray? Are you quite sure of that?” demanded the elder lady, peering into his face and forgetting her dignity in the intensity of her curiosity.
“Yes, that I am, quite sure,” replied the boy wagging his head, and then spinning himself round on his heel.
“Be quiet, Sir,” hissed Miss Clara, clutching him by the arm; “answer me,—now do be a good boy and we’ll let you away in a minute. How do you remember the name was Maubray, and not some other name like Maubray?”
“Because I remember Sir Richard Maubray that you and mamma’s always talking about.”
“We’re not always talking about him,” said Clara.