"Yes, papa," she replied, "if you remember I took Freddy to school in the winter, because mamma was not well enough to go herself."
Mrs. Armstrong saw the gathering clouds on her husband's brow, and turning to her boys, she said—
"Freddy, go up to the nursery, or into the garden, with your brothers for half an hour. I will send Morris for you when it is time for bed."
The boys obeyed, and Mary also rose to go, but her father stopped her.
"Sit down, Mary. I want to know why I have been kept in ignorance about these school people. Why did you and your mother hide the fact from me?"
"I did not hide it, papa. I thought you knew from Mr. Drummond who these gentlemen were. Why should I wish to conceal their names from you? I knew nothing of them except as schoolmasters until I went to Oxford."
"And how often have you met this young schoolmaster?" asked her father, with suppressed anger.
"Once when I took Freddy to school, and a second time when I dined with him at Mr. Drummond's. Until I met him at Oxford with his friend Charles Herbert he was a comparative stranger to me."
"And you met him there often?" said her father, his tones slightly softened by finding this schoolmaster a friend of his nephew Charles.
"Every day."