“I don’t remember,” said Mary, “that you said anything particular. Ra—Mr. Ravelstone—I will tell Letitia—anything you wish me to say.”
“Then tell her,” cried Ralph, “I don’t care that!” with a snap of his big fingers. He paused, however, with a thought of Saunders and the proprieties, and burst into another laugh. “You can tell Tisch that the cold beef’s capital, and that I’ve enjoyed my luncheon—and the best of company,” he said. “Good-bye, my lord, and good-bye, little ’un. Mary, is this how we’re to part, you and me?”
Mary wrung her fingers out of his grasp. “I will give Letitia your message,” she said.
“You’ll come and see me off at least. Poor Mary, don’t be so down because there’s strangers here. Come out and see me go.”
She looked involuntarily in her distress towards the courteous old gentleman who stood quietly observant with his hand on the back of his chair. Lord Frogmore did not understand the meaning of the appeal in her eyes—whether she wished him to go away; whether she looked to him for protection. He took out his watch, however, on the chance that it was the latter, and held it up to the departing guest.
“Well, good-bye to you all!” shouted Ralph, thus driven by moral force to the door.
“I fear the gentleman will be late,” said Lord Frogmore in his precise voice.
“Oh, I hope not!” cried Mary, clasping her hands. She listened while the dash of the dog-cart from the door, as Ralph sprang into it, was audible. “He has been long absent from home,” she said. “He has got out of the ways of—English life. Mrs. Parke was rather afraid. She was so sorry not to be downstairs to receive you. She is dressing now to be ready for luncheon, and begged me——”
“It was quite unnecessary; I found him very amusing. And I was glad to make acquaintance with this little fellow.” Lord Frogmore put his hand on Duke’s head, who had not obeyed the call to his mother. “He is—your charge, perhaps?”
“Oh no,” cried Mary, with a blush. “I am only a friend staying in the house.”