“You really would,” echoed William, “if you knew how little he knows of it.”
“Come, now, old fellow, none of your chaff, but get the balls and hoops, if Miss Darkwell will allow you, and we will choose the ground.”
“Lots of ground—I’ll choose that if you like—only you’ll just run and get the hoops and balls, for we have none here,” answered Maubray.
“No croquet!” ejaculated Mr. Trevor, expanding his lavender kid fingers, and elevating his eyebrows. “I thought everyone had croquet now—I mean, you know, the mallet-things, and hoops and balls,—and—and those little painted sticks, you know—and what are we to do, Miss Darkwell?”
“I really don’t know. It’s quite true; and besides we have not got Miss Mainwaring, you forget.”
“Oh! you’ll send Maubray, won’t you, to fetch her?”
“Yes,” said Maubray, “I’ll go with great pleasure, if Miss Darkwell wishes; but as I never saw the young lady before, I’m not quite sure that she’ll come away with me.”
“Well no—ha, ha, ha!—I don’t think she’d run away with Maubray at first sight.”
“Particularly to come to you,” replied Maubray.
“There now, let’s be serious—there’s a little fellow I saw at your gate—yes, there he is, Miss Darkwell. Suppose you let me send him to Revington. I’ve no end of those things there; and I’ll give him a note to Sparks, and we shall have them in no time.”