Thus the whole family ministered to Leo, who, half-horrified, half-amused to see the two girls sent flying in different directions for his comfort, and Jim much puzzled and flurried, extracted from the dreadful depths of the study—submitted himself to these attentions with the best grace in the world. If he had fathomed Jim’s dreadful perplexity as to whether he should offer the brand-new coat which he had got for the FitzStephens’ ball, or his old one, which he believed in his heart would be a better fit, he could not have spoken more wisely than he did on this subject.
‘Give me an old coat,’ he said, ‘one you had before you had grown so big. You are a head taller than I am.’
The whole house was stirred by this unexpected visitor. Mrs. Plowden downstairs was eager in her questions to Emmy.
‘Where did you meet him? What made you think of asking him? What a good thing that we have such a nice dinner—really too nice a dinner to eat by ourselves to-day. I said so to cook this morning. Those beautiful chickens Mrs. Barndon sent us, and a piece of salmon, and—— Really, a dinner for a dinner-party. What a very lucky thing it was to-day!’
Even the Rector came forth from his study to hear what the commotion was about.
‘Emmy brought in Mr. Swinford to change his wet clothes and dine.’
‘Emmy brought him in? Why, you must be dreaming, Jane!’
‘And why shouldn’t Emmy bring him in?’ cried Mrs. Plowden, triumphant; ‘indeed, what could she do else on such a wet night?’
Thus, instead of dining mournfully alone, with Morris behind his chair, in the great dark dining-room with the mock marble pillars, Leo sat down with the cheerful Rectory party around the severe but shabby mahogany, upon a chair covered with horse-hair, to a dinner cooked by a plain cook. He was more amused than words could say, and delighted with the new scene, the kind people, and, above all, the contrast of the family party with his solitude, and the bourgeois comfort with his own elegant and fastidious fare. The chickens, carved anxiously by Mrs. Plowden with ‘Just another little piece of the breast,’ in addition to the well-developed wing, were so good, and everything was so warm and bright, so honest and simple, that his amusement soon grew into pleasure. What a contrast! He told them even his story with judicious elisions.
‘I cannot think how I lost her,’ he said, ‘even if she did not want me to find her: and where she disappeared I cannot tell.’