"Very glad to hear that Monsieur Varbarriere has changed his mind," said Sir Jekyl, with a smile.
What change was this? thought Guy, whose thoughts were about other plans of his uncle's, and he looked with a strange surprise in Sir Jekyl's face.
"I mean his ill-natured idea of going so soon. I'm so glad. You know you have seen nothing yet, and we are going to kill a buck to-day, so you had better postpone the moor to-morrow, and if you like to take your rod in the afternoon, you will find—Barron tells me—some very fine trout, about half a mile lower down the stream than you fished yesterday—a little below the bridge."
Guy thanked him, I fancy, rather oddly. He heard him in fact as if it was an effort to follow his meaning, and he really did feel relieved when his good-natured host was called away, the next moment, to settle a disputed question between the two sportsmen, Linnett and Doocey.
"How is grandmamma this morning?" inquired Sir Jekyl of Beatrix, before she left the room.
"Better, I think. She says she will take a little turn up and down the broad walk, by-and-by, and I am to go with her."
"Very pleasant for you, Trixie," said her papa, with one of his chuckles. "So you can't go with your ladies to Lonsted to-day?"
"No—it can't be helped; but I'm glad poor granny can take her little walk."
"Not a bit of you, Trixie."
"Yes, indeed, I am. Poor old granny!"