Jane, Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's pretty maid, came rushing out of the house. She was in a flutter of excitement; also she was in a dreadful hurry—and here was her master, talking to a lady!
"'Brooke, my boy'"—repeated Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, leading up to his point.
"Master—! Master—!" whispered Jane, hoarsely.
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn waved her away impatiently.
"'Brooke, my boy—'" he repeated for the third time. But Jane was tugging at his coat-tails.
"What is it?" cried Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, peevishly. "What the devil is it? Go away!"
Jane clung to him like a limpet. "Master!" she cried again; and then, putting her lips close to his ear and covering them with one hand, while with the other she pointed frantically to the upstairs window, she whispered a piece of news which petrified him and made his eyes start out of his head. Then she ran back into the house as quickly as she had come.
"Eh? What?" he cried, in great perturbation. "There, now!—So like Selina! Spoilt the point of my story!" He turned to the utterly bewildered Barbara, with half a mind to continue his anecdote, but thought better of it, and with a brusque, "Excuse me!" dashed headlong into the house.
Madame, who had been quietly conversing with Mrs. Poskett and Ruth, came to Marjolaine. "I think I shall go in. Will you come, Marjolaine?"
"Oh, Maman," pleaded Marjolaine, "I have so much to say to Barbara!" She accompanied her mother to their gate.