"And a very great advantage for the army, madam," said Vernon, with that pleasant twinkle in his eyes which would have made an Irish girl call him "a broth of a boy" at once.
I sat down; I found it difficult to talk. Aunt Penelope took no notice of me; she kept up a ceaseless chatter with Vernon. He was in the best of spirits; I never saw anything like the way he managed her. What could he have said to her during those very few minutes while I was changing my dress and tidying my hair and getting that smut off my cheek?
The tea came to an end at last, and then the dear old lady rose.
"Heather," she said, "I am a little tired, and am going to lie down. You can entertain Captain Carbury. Captain, I have not the least idea what this dear child of mine has ordered for supper, but whatever it is I hope you will share it with us. We should both like you to do so."
"Thank you, I shall be delighted," he replied, and then Aunt Penelope went out of the room. The moment she had gone Vernon looked at me and I looked at him.
"Oh, you have done wrong," I said, "you know you have done wrong!"
"Shall we have our little talk," he said, in his calmest voice, "before or after Buttons removes the tea-things?"
"Oh, what do the tea-things matter?" I replied. "Let them stay. Vernon, you oughtn't to have come here."
"Oughtn't I? But I very well think I ought. Why shouldn't a man come to see the girl who has promised to marry him?"
"Vernon, you know—you got my letter?"