“But,” said William, who instinctively saw humiliation in anything that savoured of resentment, “don’t you think any haste like that might connect in his view with what he said to me this evening?”
“At seven o’clock to-morrow morning, that’s precisely what I wish!” exclaimed Aunt Dinah.
At this moment Tom entered with the bones and other good things, and William, with the accommodating appetite of youth, on second thought accepted and honoured the repast.
“And, Thomas, mind at seven o’clock to-morrow morning, let Billy Willocks bring over those great hammers, and wooden balls, and iron things; they’re horribly in the way in the hall, with my compliments, to Revington, to Mr. Trevor, and don’t fail. He’ll say—Billy Willocks—that they were forgotten at Gilroyd. At seven o’clock, mind, with Miss Perfect’s compliments.”
“I’m very glad, on the whole,” said Miss Perfect, after about a minute had elapsed, “that that matter is quite off my mind.”
William, who was eating his broiled drumstick, with diligence and in a genial mood, was agreeably abstracted, and made no effort to keep the conversation alive.
“He talks very grandly, no doubt, of his family. But he’ll hardly venture his high and mighty airs with you or me. The Maubrays are older than the Trevors; and, for my part, I would not change the name of Perfect with anyone in England. We are Athelstanes, and took the name of Perfect in the civil wars, as I’ve told you. As to family, William, you could not stand higher. You have, thank God, splendid talents, and, as I am satisfied, excellent—indeed, magnificent prospects. Do you see much of your Cousin Winston at Cambridge?”
“Nothing,” said William, who was, it must be confessed, a little surprised at his aunt’s glowing testimony to his genius, and particularly to “his prospects,” which he knew to be of a dismal character, and he conjectured that a supernatural light had been thrown upon both by Henbane.
“Do you mean to say that Winston Maubray has not sought you out or showed you any kindness?”
“I don’t need his kindness, thank goodness. He could not be, in fact, of the least use to me; and I think he’s ashamed of me rather.”