“I came here to-day to make the acquaintance of my nephew’s daughters. I should be glad, Mary, if you would allow them to pay me a visit at the Court. I have arranged to have a lady in residence who will look after them and do what chaperonage is needful. If Monday will suit you, I should like them to arrive on that day.”
It sounded more like a command than an invitation, but such as it was it thrilled the listeners with joy. To pay a visit, and above all, to visit the Court, of which they had heard so much, had been the girls’ day-dream for so long that it seemed impossible that it had come at last. Ruth’s mind flew at once to considerations of ways and means, and she suffered a moment of agonising suspense before Mrs Connor’s eager consent put an end to anxiety.
“Oh, I shall be delighted—delighted! The girls will love it, of all things. How kind of you, dear Uncle Bernard! Ruth! Mollie! Are you not delighted to have such a treat in store?”
“Thank you, Uncle Bernard; I should love to come!” cried Ruth warmly. “Mollie and I have often said that there is nothing in the world we should enjoy more than paying a visit to the Court. It is most good of you to ask us!”
“And we will try to behave very nicely, and not bother you at all,” added Mollie, her eyes dancing with happiness. “We are to come on Monday week. And will there be other people, too—other visitors, besides ourselves?”
“Probably,” said Uncle Bernard curtly. “There are several important matters to be discussed, into which I cannot enter in a short interview. I am inviting you—and others—in order that we may talk them over at leisure. A carriage will meet the train arriving at four-twenty. Good-afternoon, Mary. I shall not see you again, as I leave by an early train to-morrow.”
Even as he spoke, Mr Farrell made his way towards the door with an air of finality which forbade further questioning. He had waited until the last possible moment before giving his invitation, and, having obtained an acceptance, was evidently determined to take his departure without further delay. Mrs Connor escorted him to the door, her husband helped him into the cab, offered to accompany him to the hotel, was coldly snubbed for his pains, and came back into the house heaving deep sighs of relief.
“Now for my smoke!” he exclaimed, and hurried off to the study, while Mrs Connor was dragged into the drawing-room and subjected to a breathless cross-questioning.
“Matters of importance to discuss! Mother, what can he mean?”
“Other people besides ourselves! Mother, who can they be?”