Mr. Carlyle ordered the pony carriage, and drove forth with John. He drew in at the grove. Barbara and Mrs. Hare were seated together, and looked surprised at the early visit.
“Do you want Mr. Hare, Archibald? He is out. He went while the breakfast was on the table, apparently in a desperate hurry.”
“I don’t want Mr. Hare; I want Barbara. I have come to carry her off.”
“To carry off Barbara!” echoed Mrs. Hare.
“Cornelia is not well; she had caught a violent cold, and wishes Barbara to spend the day with her.”
“Oh, Mr. Carlyle, I cannot leave mamma to-day. She is not well herself, and she would be dull without me.”
“Neither can I spare her, Archibald. It is not a day for Barbara to go out.”
How could he get to say a word to Barbara alone? Whilst he deliberated, talking on, though, all the while to Mrs. Hare, a servant appeared at the sitting-room door.
“The fishmonger’s boy is come up, ma’am. His master has sent him to say that he fears there’ll be no fish in to-day, in anything like time. The trains won’t get up, with this weather.”
Mrs. Hare rose from her seat to hold a confab at the door with the maid; and Mr. Carlyle seized his opportunity.