This, she thought, was à la mode de Mrs. Seton, but it produced no effect, not even a smile.
“You could see the figure-head with a glass,” said Captain Scott. “Where’s the glass, Miss Tredgold? There ought to be a glass somewhere.”
“Jove!” cried Sir Charles. “Fancy a look-out like this and no telescope. What could the people be thinking of?”
“You are very rude to call papa and me the people,” cried Stella, almost in tears. “Who cares for a silly little cockle-shell of a boat? But it is a good thing at least that it gives you something to talk about—which I suppose you can understand.”
“Hullo!” said the one visitor to the other, under his breath, with a look of surprise.
“If it is only a glass that is wanted,” said Katherine, “why shouldn’t we all have a look? There is a telescope, you know, upstairs.”
Stella flashed out again under the protection of this suggestion. “I’ll run,” she said, being in reality all compliance and deeply desirous to please, “and tell one of the footmen to bring it down.”
“Too much trouble,” and “What a bore for you to have us on your hands!” the young men said.
“Don’t, Stella,” said Katherine; “they had better go up to papa’s observatory, where they can see it for themselves.”
“Oh, yes,” cried the girl, “come along, let’s go to papa’s observatory, that will be something for you to do. You always want something to do, don’t you? Come along, come along!” Stella ran on before them with heated cheeks and blazing eyes. It was not that she was angry with them, but with herself, to think that she could not do what Mrs. Seton did. She could not amuse them, or keep up to their high level of spirits, and the vacancy of the look which came over both their faces—the mouth of Algy under his moustache, the eyes of Charlie staring blankly about in search of a sensation—were more than her nerves could bear. And yet she was alarmed beyond measure, feeling her own prestige in question, by the thought that they might never come again.