Mrs. Castlemaine's carriage was seen winding round the drive. They heard her get out at the door and hold a colloquy with Flora. She came to the red parlour looking angry.
"Where's Harry?" she demanded, in the sharp, unkindly tones that so often grated on the ear of those offending her, as she threw her eyes round the room.
"Harry is not here, mamma," replied Ethel.
"I understood he was here," suspiciously spoke Mrs. Castlemaine.
"He went out a minute or two ago," said Ethel. "I think he is gone to Commodore Teague's."
"He is like an eel," was the pettish rejoinder. "You never know when you have him. As to that vulgar, gossiping old Teague, that they make so much of and are always running after, I can't think what they see in him."
"Perhaps it is his gossip that they like," suggested Ethel.
"Well, I want Harry. He has been beating Flora."
"I don't think he beat her, mamma."
"Oh, you great story-teller!" exclaimed Flora, putting in her head. "He shook me till all my bones rattled."