They all dined that evening with Mr. Rowland at his hotel—Mrs. Brown in such splendour of apparel that her brother-in-law was abashed by her appearance. Marion was fortunately more simply arrayed, and her father tried to believe that it was her own good taste which made the difference. The poor man felt all their little solecisms at table with double force, as remembering that he had once himself felt all the perplexity which paralysed Archie as to what he was to do with his knife and fork and table-napkin, and the finger-bowl which was put before him at dessert. As for Mrs. Brown, she showed no perplexity at all, but frankly broke every rule, stuck her fork into the potato she preferred, helped herself to the salt with her knife, and then ate her peas with it in the most assured simplicity, unconscious of criticism.
“Will you give me a little of that, sir,” she said to the waiter. “I’m no just sure what it is, but I would like to try. I tell the bairns no to be prejudiced, but just to try everything.”
Rowland felt that the imperturbable waiters were laughing in their sleeves at this strange party. But Marion gave him a little comfort. Marion was as sharp as a needle. She had all her wits about her. She divined from the smallest indication what was the right thing to do; but then she had read a great many novels, in some of which the very circumstances in which she now stood were set forth. Novels are a great help to an intelligent young lady endeavouring to acquire the manners of society to which she has been unaccustomed. Between these several sources of enlightenment she came out with credit from the ordeal, which made Archie feel himself a clown, and which Jane blundered through without being aware. This somehow eased the weight of trouble in Rowland’s heart.
“And what are ye gaun to do the morn?” said Mrs. Brown, lying back in an easy chair with her cap strings unloosed, and a genial glow upon her countenance after her abundant meal. “Have ye some ferlies to let your father see? But he just knew them all before ye were born.”
“I am afraid I have no time to see ferlies,” said Rowland. “I’ve seen a great many in my time. I am engaged to-morrow: and I must get back to London as soon as I can. I can’t leave my wife alone.”
“Oh, man, ye might first let the bairns have their turn,” said Jane, with a cloud on her brow. But alarmed by the darkness of that which gathered on his, she added hastily, “They might take a trip down the water if ye’re so busy. Ye canna expect them to settle to anything and you here.”
Then Rowland had a momentary struggle with himself. He came out of it victoriously on the side of virtue. “I am going,” he said, “to Rosmore to-morrow. Perhaps you would like to come with me, and see the house.”
There was a cry of eager acceptance from Marion of this proposal, and Archie gave his father a look of pleasure. Mr. Rowland was emboldened to add—“We must make the most of it, for in a day or two I must go to London.”
“That’s just what they would like best of all,” said Mrs. Brown. “Archie, puir laddie, would just give his little finger for a look of London. I’ve always said no, for it’s a place full of temptations. But to be with his own father makes a great difference.”
“And me,” said Marion. “Ah, papa,” she added, studying his countenance, “I want to see London; but far more, I want to see mamma.”