“If you would like to meet him, Mr Snow, dine with us on Friday,” said Mrs Grove. “I am quite sure you will like and admire each other. I see many points of resemblance between you. Well, then, I shall expect you all. Miss Elliott, you will not disappoint me, I hope.”
“But so large a party! Mrs Grove, consider how many there are of us,” said Graeme, who knew as well as though she were speaking aloud, that the lady was saying that same thing to herself, and that she was speculating as to the necessity of enlarging the table.
“Pray, don’t mention it. We are to have no one else. Quite a family party. I shall be quite disappointed if I don’t see you all. The garden is looking beautifully now.”
“And one more wouldn’t make a bit of difference. Miss Rose, can’t you speak a good word for me,” whispered Charlie.
“Thank you,” said Graeme, in answer to Mrs Grove. “I have been longing to show Mrs Snow your garden. I hope the roses are not quite over.”
“Oh, no!” said Arthur. “There are any number left; and Charlie, man, be sure and bring your flute to waken the echoes of the grove. It will be delightful by moonlight, won’t it, Rosie?”
Mrs Grove gave a little start of surprise at the liberty taken by Arthur. “So unlike him,” she thought. Mr Millar’s coming would make the enlargement of the table absolutely necessary. However, she might ask one or two other people whom she ought to have asked before, “and have it over,” as she said. So she smiled sweetly, and said,—
“Pray do, Mr Millar. We shall expect you with the rest.”
Charlie would be delighted, and said so.
“But the flute,” added he to Rose. “Well, for that agreeable fiction your brother is responsible. And a family party will be indeed charming.”