Miss Diana craned forth her neck. "Chattaway, I must inquire into this. Let that front-door be opened."
"I will not," he answered. And he banged down his window with a resolute air, as if to avoid further colloquy.
But in that same moment the lock of the front-door was turned, and it was thrown open by Octave Chattaway.
CHAPTER XVIII
AN OLD IMPRESSION
It was surely a scene to excite some interest, if only the interest of curiosity, that was presented at Trevlyn Hold that night. Octave Chattaway in evening dress—for she had not begun to prepare for bed, although some time in her chamber—standing at the hall-door which she had opened; Miss Diana pressing forward from the back of the hall in a hastily assumed dressing gown; Mr. Chattaway in a waistcoat; Cris in greater déshabille; and Mrs. Chattaway dressed as was Octave.
Rupert came in, coughing with the night air, and leaning on the arm of George Ryle. There was no light, except such as was afforded by a candle carried by Miss Trevlyn; but she stepped forward and lighted the lamp.
"Now then," said she. "What is all this?"
"It is this," returned the master of Trevlyn Hold: "that I make rules for the proper regulation of my household, and a beardless boy chooses to break them. I should think"—turning shortly upon Miss Diana—"that you are not the one to countenance that."