I do not deny that dreadful questions ran through Emmy’s mind about the dinner. She did not know in the first place what it was, for Mrs. Plowden was severely determined on the point of retaining the housekeeping in her own hands: nor was she quite sure that she would escape a lecture for bringing him in upon them like this without notice, a man accustomed to a French cook. But Leo was town-bred—Paris-bred, and not accustomed to long expeditions in all weathers, and it was clear that he was beginning to shiver in the persistent though softly falling rain.
‘I am quite sure mamma would never forgive me if I let you pass the door,’ she said, leading him in through the damp garden, where already the rain began to form little pools.
Emmy felt no cold as she went in by the side door, which was always on the latch, leading her captive. Her cheeks had never glowed with such a rosy colour; her eyes had never shown so like two stars. She slid off her cloak in the passage, and stood dry and trim underneath in her little gray dress as if she had come straight from her toilette. When she pushed open the drawing-room door the light flashed about her in a sudden warm dazzle, shining in her eyes, and in those raindrops that were like pearls in her hair.
‘Mamma,’ said Emmy, in a voice that had never before sounded so soft, ‘I have made Mr. Swinford come in with me, he is so wet; and I have told him you will make him stay to dinner; and that he must put on some of Jim’s clothes.’
‘Which will be much too long for me,’ said Leo; ‘but if you will really be so charitable as Miss Plowden says——’
What a sudden sensation it made in the drawing-room! Mrs. Plowden sent Florence upstairs flying, to put a match to the fire in Jim’s room.
‘It is all laid ready; it is no trouble,’ she explained breathlessly; ‘but Florry will do it so much quicker than ringing the bell. And Emmy, call Jim—he is in the study with your papa—to get everything comfortable for Mr. Swinford. You are wet indeed. I will not even keep you downstairs to give you some tea.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Emmy modestly, ‘a little wine or something, mamma, to keep him from catching cold——’
‘And what do you take to keep you from catching cold?’ he said. ‘Am I supposed to be more delicate than you?’
‘Oh,’ said Mrs. Plowden, sending Emmy off with a look, ‘they are used to it; they are accustomed to our climate. How glad I am you came! This is the way, Mr. Swinford; let me show you the way. You must excuse me if I don’t take you to one of the best rooms, but only to Jim’s, which will be the most homely; for I think comfort is the thing to think of when one is wet and cold. Oh, here you are, Jim. I will just go with you to see that the fire is burning—and you must get out dry things to make Mr. Swinford comfortable. Have you lighted the candles, Florry? And is the fire burning up? Oh, well, then I will leave you with Jim.’