“Well,” said Penelope, “I really don’t know how it is to be done. There’s the gong for lunch. Shall we go into the house!”
Neither girl looked too happy during this meal; but Brenda contrived to get herself placed at table as far as possible from Penelope and as near to Fred as she could. She joked and laughed with Fred Hungerford, and he thought her a very pretty girl indeed. After lunch, however, he and his brother were obliged to go to Marshlands to see some friends. He mentioned this fact with regret to Brenda, who had hoped that he was going to be her partner in a game of tennis.
“I can’t,” he said—“it is a long engagement, and I can’t break it. I should like to awfully; but of course you’ll come another day; I know my aunt will be delighted to ask you. We’re so glad to have your sister with us—we think she is such a very nice girl.”
“So she is—a sweet girl—a noble girl,” said Brenda. She looked thoughtfully round her: there was no one exactly in sight.
“I made such an idiotic mistake this morning,” she said. “I wonder—if you would help me—I scarcely know how to manage.”
“Why—what did you do? and what can I do for you! I am sure I shall be quite pleased.”
“I forgot to desire the cab from town to return for us. Would you—or could you—send a message to the livery stables to tell them to come here at—oh, I don’t know what hour we’re expected to leave.”
“Not until dark—I’m certain, and of course you must have one of the carriages here. Wait a minute, and I’ll speak to my uncle.”
Young Hungerford crossed the hall. He met the squire, and said a few words to him. The squire slightly raised his brows.
“She ought not to have done it,” he said. “I don’t much admire that young lady; but of course, Fred, we’ll see her home—you just tell her so. And now get off, my dear lad, and enjoy yourself. The Calverts expect you and Jim quite early.”