"Parcel of fools, I call 'em!" said Colonel Ferrers, contemptuously. "New people, with money. Loftus, sharp business man, wants to be a gentleman farmer. As much idea of farming as my stick has. Wife and daughters look like a parcel o' fools. Don't know 'em! don't want to know 'em!" Mrs. Grahame, finding this not an agreeable subject, turned the conversation upon old friends, and they were soon deep in matters of twenty years ago.
Meanwhile Hildegarde and the bashful youth had sat in absolute silence. At first Hildegarde had been too much discomposed by her mother's allusion to the morning's adventure to speak, though she was able to see afterwards how much better it was to bring up the matter naturally, and then dismiss it as a thing of no consequence, as it was, than to let it hang, an unacknowledged cloud, in the background.
As the moments went on, however, she became conscious that it was her duty to entertain Mr. Ferrers. He evidently had no idea of saying anything; her mother and Colonel Ferrers had forgotten the presence of either of them, apparently. The silence became more and more awkward. What could she say to this gawky youth, whose face she could not even see? "What a lovely day it has been!" she finally remarked, and was startled by the sound of her own voice, though she was not usually shy in the least.
"Yes," said Mr. Ferrers, "it has been a fine day."
Silence again. This would never do! "Do you play tennis?" she asked boldly.
"No—not much!" was the reply. "Doesn't pay, in hot weather."
This was not encouraging, but Hildegarde was fairly roused by this time, and had no idea of being beaten. "What do you do?" she said.
Mr. Ferrers was silent, as if considering.
"Oh—I don't know!" he said finally. "Nothing much. Poke about!" Then, after a pause, he added in explanation, "I don't live here. I only came a few days ago. I am to spend the summer with my uncle." Apparently this effort was too much for him, for he relapsed into silence, and Hildegarde could get nothing more save "Yes!" and "No!" out of him. But now Colonel Ferrers came to the rescue.
"By the way, Mrs. Grahame," he said, "I think this boy must be a relation of yours, a Scotch cousin at least. His mother was a Grahame, daughter of Robert Grahame of Baltimore. His own name is John Grahame Ferrers."