Hubert Temperley was quiet and self-possessed, but Algitha felt sure that she detected a look of suppressed exultation in his demeanour, and something odiously brotherly in his mode of bidding them all good-night.
When everyone had left, and the family were alone, they gathered round the hall fire for a final chat, before dispersing for the night.
“What a delightful evening we have had, Mrs. Fullerton,” said Miss Temperley. “It was most picturesque and characteristic. I shall always remember the charm and kindliness of Scottish hospitality.”
“And I,” said Ernest, sotto voce to Algitha, “shall always remember the calm and thoroughness of English cheek!”
“Why, we had almost forgotten that the New Year is just upon us,” exclaimed Mr. Fullerton. The first stroke of twelve began to sound almost as he spoke. He threw up the window and disclosed a night brilliant with stars. (“And under us graves,” said Hadria to herself.)
They all crowded up, keeping silence as the slow strokes of the clock told the hour.
“A Happy New Year to all!” cried Mr. Fullerton heartily.