'In the Maddoxes' car, to be sure. Didn't you know I was staying there?'
'I knew you were staying somewhere in Yorkshire, but I didn't know it was near here,' she replied.
'As a matter of fact, it isn't so very near; but we came over in an hour, in spite of the beastly roads. But, I say, it's a jolly good idea of yours this,' he observed.
'Of mine? What do you mean? This isn't my party; it's Mr Clay's and Mrs and Miss Clay's idea—this rink, I mean.'
'Oh, well, he called it Miss Horatia Cunningham's party. That's what made us come. I wanted to see you, and see how you get on with these people. But I'm jolly glad I came. The old buffer does it in style.'
'This is Mr Howroyd, Mr Clay's brother,' said Horatia hastily, to warn her cousin that he must be careful what he said; but when she turned to introduce her cousin to him, Mr William Howroyd had disappeared. He had slipped away as soon as he saw that Horatia had a congenial companion. That was William Howroyd's invariable way, always doing kindly, unobtrusive acts, and then effacing himself.
George Cunningham gave a hearty laugh. 'The bird has flown,' he said.
'And a good thing, too. Suppose he had heard his brother called an "old buffer"?' said Horatia reprovingly.
'He's heard him called much worse than that, by all accounts. Your host isn't too popular, for all his money.'
'Well, anyway, it's horrid of you to come and eat his food, and then criticise him,' said Horatia.