"Thank you, Claud!" said Mrs. Merryweather, quietly. "I trust your mother is quite well? I only received her note, and Gerald yours, to-day. She spoke of your coming next week; if we had known that you were coming to-night, we would have sent to the station for you."
"Ah, yes; I knew that!" said Mr. Belleville. "I know your hospitality never fails, Cousin Miranda. But you know me, too—a butterfly—here to-day, gone to-morrow! A summons from the Dunderblincks—races going on at their place, don't you know; midsummer fêtes, that sort of thing—changed my plans. Mamma said, 'You will have to give up the Camp, Chéri!' 'No!' I said. 'They expect me; I have passed my word, it is all I have. I go to the Camp to-day.' I came—I saw—I dare not say I conquered!" Here he bowed, and threw a killing glance at Gertrude, who was passing at the moment, carrying the teapot.
"Can this be the little Gertrude?" he added, addressing her, and lowering his voice to a sentimental half-tone. "She has not forgotten Cousin Claud?"
"Certainly not, Claud!" replied Gertrude, smiling. "It is only three years since you were with us at home for two or three weeks. I remember you perfectly."
"Only three years!" murmured Mr. Belleville. "Is it possible? but what momentous years! The change from the petite fille, the charming child, to the woman, the—but I must not say too much!"
"You'll burn your bloom—your boots, if you stand so near the fire!" said Gerald, in a growl so threatening that Margaret looked up startled.
"Your boots, dear fellow!" Mr. Belleville corrected him. "Right! I am a little near the cheerful blaze. I am a fire-worshipper, you know; oh, very, very, very!"
"Boys, you'd better see to the boats before you go to bed!" said Mr. Merryweather, speaking for the first time since his greeting of the newcomer.
"All right, sir!" said the twins, rising with alacrity. "Jack, will you come along?"
"Always thoughtful, Cousin Miles!" said Mr. Belleville. "Always the prop of the family! so unchanged!"