“I don’t think it will be necessary to repeat it,” said Paul, coolly; “you heard me.”
“None of yer sass, boy!” said Frost, wrathfully.
Paul did not deign to answer him. He saw that Frost did not intend to be pleased with anything he did, and that there was no use in trying to conciliate.
“I hate that boy!” reflected Frost, following Paul with a venomous expression. “My mother is perfectly right. He’s a dangerous visitor. We must get rid of him one way or another.”
Paul drove around to the front of the house and found Mrs. Granville ready at the door—with the housekeeper at her side.
“I do hope you won’t meet with an accident,” said Mrs. Mercer with an air of deep solicitude. “Frost is ready to drive you. It will be safer.”
“Thank you, my good Mercer, but Paul tells me he understands driving.”
“I shouldn’t mind if she broke her neck,” muttered the housekeeper, following the carriage with her eyes, “if I only knew it was all right now in her will.”