“Yes, I must go at once,” Hervey replied promptly. “That is, to-morrow morning.”
“Then you will stay to-night,” said Prudence.
“Yes; but only to get a good long sleep and rest my horse. I’m thoroughly worn out. I’ve been in saddle since early this morning.”
“Have you sent your horse round to the barn?” asked Sarah Gurridge.
“Well, no. He’s hitched to the fence.” The observing Sarah had been sure of it.
Prudence rose from her seat and called out to the hired girl––
“Mary, send out and tell Andy to take the horse round to the barn. He’s hitched to the fence.” Then she came back. “You’ll join our party to-night, of course.”
“Hoity, girl, of course not,” said their mother. “How’s the lad going to get rest gallivanting with a lot of clowns who can only talk of ‘bowers’ and ‘jokers’? You think of nothing but ‘how-de-doin’ 76 with your neighbours since you’re going to be married. Things were different in my day. I’ll look after Hervey,” she continued, turning to her son. “You shall have a good night, lad, or my name’s not Hephzibah Malling. Maybe you’ll tell me by and by what you’d like to do.”
“That’s right, mother,” replied Hervey, with an air of relief. “You understand what it is for a man to need rest. I’ll just hang around till the folks come, and then sneak off to bed. You don’t mind, Prue, do you? I’m dead beat, and I want to leave at daybreak.”
“Mind?” answered Prudence; “certainly not, Hervey. I should have liked you to meet Mr. Grey, but you must get your rest.”