“My friend is a stranger in the neighbourhood, Mrs. Porter,” he said, “and he was so struck by the beauty of your cottage yesterday, that he set his heart upon being introduced to you, and I was really obliged to bring him.”
“My cottage is not generally considered a show place, Mr. Dalbrook,” she answered coldly, turning her dull gray eyes full upon Theodore with a look which made him uncomfortable, “but I shall be very happy to show it to your friend—and his lordship’s friend, I conclude.”
“I don’t know if I dare claim that distinction, Mrs. Porter,” answered Cuthbert, in his cheerful resonant voice. “This is my first visit to the Chase; and if Lord Cheriton has received me with open arms it is only because I am his kinsman’s friend.”
Theodore introduced the stranger to the Kempsters, who welcomed him eagerly, as one who came fraught with the interests and excitements of the outer world.
“May I ask if our man has got in for Southwark?” demanded Mr. Kempster. “His lordship would be sure to get a telegram after the polling.”
“I blush to say that I forgot all about the election, and didn’t ask after the telegram,” replied Cuthbert. “When you say ‘our man,’ you mean——”
“The Conservative candidate. I conclude you belong to us.”
“Again I blush to say I don’t belong to you the least little bit. I am an advanced Liberal.”
Mr. Kempster sighed, with a sigh that was almost a groan.
“A destroyer and disestablisher of everything that has made the glory of England since the days of the Heptarchy,” he said, plaintively.