“I suppose Frost and I are not good enough company for the young man,” she said, sulkily.
“My good Mercer, you are much mistaken,” said Mrs. Granville, soothingly. “I thought he would be company for me; besides, it will give me a chance to ask him some questions about Louisa.”
“Very well, ma’am,” said the housekeeper, but she didn’t look satisfied.
“What do you think, Frost?” she said, as she went downstairs. “Master Paul—that’s his name—is to dine with the old woman upstairs. I suppose he is too good to eat with us.”
“I don’t know as I care much, mother; I don’t want his company.”
“Nor I, for the matter of that, but it’s putting this young popinjay over our heads. They’ll be getting thick together, and the boy will be pulling our noses out of joint.”
“If he does, I’ll pull his out of joint,” muttered Frost.
“Bide your time, Frost. We’ll put our heads together and see if we can’t send him packing.”
After dinner Mrs. Granville expressed a desire, as it was a fine day, to go out for a drive.