Trevlyn Hold: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"In for a penny, in for a pound," thought George. "I don't know what Mrs. Ryle will say to this; but if she comes, some of the rest shall come also."

It almost seemed as if Octave had divined part of his thoughts. "I must ask my aunt Ryle whether she will have me. By way of bribe, I shall tell her that I delight in harvest-homes."

"We must have you all," said George. "Your sisters and Maude. Treve will be home I expect, and the Apperleys will be here."

"Who else?" asked Octave. "But I don't know about my sisters and Maude."

"Mr. and Mrs. Freeman. They and the Apperleys always come."

"Our starched old parson!" uttered Octave. "He is not a favourite with us at the Hold."

"I think he is with your mother."

"Oh, mamma's nobody. Of course we are civil to the Freemans, and exchange dull visits with them occasionally. You must be passably civil to the parson you sit under."

There was a pause. Octave advanced to Nora, who had gone on diligently with her work, never turning her head, or noticing Miss Chattaway by so much as a look. Octave drew close and watched her.

"How industrious you are, Nora!—just as if you enjoyed the occupation. I should not like to soil my hands, making up butter."