During the rest of the meal Sir John devoted himself to Mary; her frank, commonplace face, her downright manners, her total absence of all self-consciousness pleased him. He found her a truly intelligent girl, and discovered in talking over her father that they knew some mutual friends.
To Kitty he hardly spoke, although he glanced at her once or twice. Florence seemed not to receive the most remote share of his attention.
"And yet," thought Florence to herself, "I am the only girl present properly dressed for the occasion. Surely Sir John, a thorough gentleman as he is, must notice that fact. I wonder what it can mean. Why does he devote himself to Mary? Am I wrong from first to last? Do girls who are real ladies think little or nothing about their dress? Would Sir John have been more inclined to be pleasant to me if Aunt Susan had never interfered?"
As these thoughts came to the restless and unhappy girl's mind she only played with her food, became distrait and inattentive, and had to be spoken to once or twice by Mrs. Clavering in order to recall her wandering attention.
Just as the meal came to an end Sir John turned to Kitty, then glanced at Florence, laid his hand emphatically on the table, touched Mary on her sleeve in order to ensure her attention, and spoke.
"Now," he said, "I am just going to say a word before we go for our afternoon expedition."
"Afternoon expedition! Are we going to have anything very jolly this afternoon?" said Kitty, her eyes sparkling.
"I hope so, my little girl; I have ordered horses for us all. I understand that you can all ride, and I thought we could ride to Culner's Heath, where we may enjoy a gipsy tea."
Even Florence almost forgot herself at this announcement. Could she ride in her silk dress? Had Sir John thought of habits? It seemed that Sir John had thought of everything.
"You will find habits in your bedroom, ladies," he said, "and you can choose your horses when they come up to the door—but one word first."