Julia looked up from her book. "Who says so?"
"Mamma. Lord Hawkesley's coming, and we cannot have the drawing-room crowded."
"I am not going to keep out of the drawing-room for Lord Hawkesley," returned Julia, a quiet girl in appearance and manner. "Who is Lord Hawkesley, that he should disarrange the economy of the house? There's so much ceremony and parade observed when he comes that it upsets all comfort. Your lordship this, and your lordship that; and papa my-lording him to the skies. I don't like it. He looks down upon us—I know he does—although he condescends to make a sort of friend of Anthony."
Adelaide Dare's dark eyes flashed and her face crimsoned. She was a handsome girl. "Julia! I do think you are an idiot!"
"Perhaps I am," composedly returned Julia, who was of a careless, easy temper; "but I am not going to be kept out of the drawing-room for my Lord Hawkesley. Let me go on with my book in peace, Adelaide: it is a charming one."
Meanwhile Herbert Dare, seeing no prospect of more wine in store—for Mr. Dare, with wonderful prudence, told Herbert that two glasses of port were sufficient for him—left his seat, and bolted out at the dining-room window, which opened on to the ground. He ran into the hall for his hat, and then, speeding across the lawn, passed into the high-road. Anthony remained alone with his father; and Anthony was plucking up courage to speak upon a subject that was causing him some perplexity. He plunged into it at once.
"Father, I am in a mess. I have managed to outrun the constable."
Mr. Dare was at that moment holding his glass of wine between his eye and the light. The words quite scared him. He set his glass down and looked at Anthony.
"How's that? How have you managed that?"
"I don't know how it has come about," was Anthony's answer. "It is so, sir; and you must be so good as to help me out of it."