The two girls went down the staircase together; the drawing-room door stood open, and a hum of voices reached their ears before they entered the room. Then Lady Marth’s clear, decided tones rang out conspicuously above the others.
“Nonsense!” she was saying. “You can both stay if you choose—you know you are always welcome.”
“That must be Norman,” said Hebe gladly, “and—”
But Blanche heard no more, for by this time they were inside the room, and Lady Marth was addressing her.
“How do you do, Miss Derwent? My hands are full of teacups, you see. I persuaded Sir Adam to stay to tea.”
Some one came forward from the little group near the fire. It was almost too dark to distinguish faces at the first moment, but Hebe’s, “This is Norman, Blanche,” prepared her for his cordial greeting.
“Here’s a nice corner for you both,” said Mr Milward. “No foot-stools to stumble over!”
“I see better in the dark than the rest of you, I think,” said Hebe laughingly; “it is too bad for you all to suffer for my sake.—Oh,” she exclaimed, “is that you, Archie? I didn’t know you were coming back again to-day.”
“Norman brought me over,” Mr Dunstan replied.
“And he’s pretending he can’t stay to dinner,” put in Lady Marth.—“As if your aunt would mind, Archie!”