Meanwhile Molly stood gaping, and John himself was a little taken aback on hearing of the exalted rank of all his self-invited guests. Yet, with a certain natural dignity, he took his place as master of the house, and proceeded to dispense hospitality.
He soon found, indeed, that these noble folks were as affable in manner as gay in humour. Sir Harry proceeded to pour out foaming beakers of ale for as many of the company as desired to partake of it; and, somewhat to John’s surprise, everyone with the exception of Lady Lucy accepted this homely beverage; even Her Grace the Duchess quaffed her tumbler with unfeigned approval. Lord Tuftington served the ham and eggs, and Lady Olivia, with great good-humour and a firm hand, cut slices from the crusty loaf which she laughingly tossed across the table to each member of the party.
Meanwhile Lady Lucy sat toying with an egg, speaking little, though every now and then her face lit up with smiles over some ridiculous sally from Tufty or Sir Harry. Once or twice John caught a curious glance shot at him from beneath her long curling dark lashes, and with each of them he felt as though that manly heart of his, hitherto untouched by love for woman, were being drawn from out his bosom. Fain would he have sat by her side in mute ecstacy, but his guests plied him incessantly with questions, and appeared to be excessively diverted by the simplicity of his answers.
All at once the Duchess threw down her knife and fork with a little scream—
“Lord!” she cried, “we have left that booby of a postboy to his own devices. What if he should have made off with all our property! Quick, somebody, see to him!”
“Nay, Duchess,” returned Tufty, with his mouth full, “the fellow was dead drunk, and the best horse dead lame—they will stick in the mud safe enough till morning.”
“But surely our valises should be brought in?” cried Lady Olivia. “If by any accident the fellow should abscond, we shall arrive in town without so much as a change of linen.”
“Madam, we are all in the like plight,” observed Sir Harry; “and in any case, if the lad had given us the slip he would be miles away by now, and it would be useless to pursue him.”
“You cannot, I am sure, be serious,” said Lady Lucy, looking from one to the other with large, startled eyes. “You would not be so inhuman as to leave the poor man exposed to the weather all night. And the horses—think of the horses. Surely they too need food and shelter.”
Neither of the gentlemen seemed in the least touched by her appeal, and, though the Duchess and Lady Olivia continued loud protestations and entreaties, both Sir Harry and Lord Tuftington continued their repast without offering to move.