"The same," said Mr. Freeman, settling his double chin more comfortably in his white cravat. "He has been staying with us for a week past."
"Ay. Some foreign folk, isn't he, named Daw? There's all sorts of tales abroad in the neighbourhood as to what he is doing down here. I don't know whether they be correct."
"I don't know much about it myself either," said Mr. Freeman. "I am glad to entertain him as an old friend, but as for any private affairs or views of his, I don't meddle with them."
"Best plan," nodded the farmer. And the subject, thus indistinctly hinted at, was allowed to drop, owing probably to the presence of Mrs. Ryle.
"The Chattaways are coming here to-night," suddenly exclaimed Caroline Ryle. She spoke only to Mary Apperley, but there was a pause in the general conversation just then, and Mr. Apperley took it up.
"Who's coming? The Chattaways! Which of the Chattaways?" he said in some surprise, knowing they had never been in the habit of paying evening visits to Trevlyn Farm.
"All the girls, and Maude. I don't know whether Rupert will come; and I don't think Cris was asked."
"Eh, but that's a new move," cried Farmer Apperley, his long intimacy with the Farm justifying the freedom. "Did you invite them?"
"In point of fact, they invited themselves," interposed Mrs. Ryle, before George, to whom the question had been addressed, could speak. "At least, Octave did so: and then George, I believe, asked the rest of the girls."
"They won't come," said Farmer Apperley.