But he only twirled his moustache triumphantly.
"The party will be small and select; just you and the two Misses Ward and Gwen and myself."
"And not Noel?" in some surprise.
"Noel! Oh, dear, no! My friend the humourist would be decidedly de trop. He is too acute and wide-awake a youth, and Monsieur Blackie would be found out in a moment."
"But I thought Lord Ralston was to be our host!" Althea spoke in a puzzled tone. Then Moritz patted her in a soothing manner.
"Keep calm, I entreat you," he said, gently. "In the presence of great thoughts we should always keep calm. Lord Ralston is my intimate friend, please understand that. We are like brothers, he and I, and it is for the corner of his picture-gallery, at Brentwood, that King Canute was bought; Miss Ward and her sister will be interested to see it again. And as Brentwood Hall, with its Silent Pool, is a show place—a picnic there will be the most natural thing in the world."
"And the master is absent."
"Yes, he is absent—but he may return at any moment;" and here there was a strange glow in Moritz's eyes. "We must leave town early," he went on, briskly, after a moment's pause—"and I think we could reach Brentwood by midday. Gwen has promised to meet us at the Hall, and we shall have plenty of time to see the picture-gallery, and more of the rooms before luncheon. I shall coach the servants carefully, so there will be no contretemps. After luncheon there will be the conservatories and the Silent Pool, and then tea in the blue drawing-room; it will be light until half-past five, so you may as well tell Doreen not to expect you home until eight. Oh, I forgot one important part of the programme: Gwen means to carry you off to Kingsdene, either before or after tea, to see baby Murdoch and Madam; she is staying with them at present."
It was evident, from Althea's amused look, that the picnic at Brentwood would meet with her approval, and she was just about to give a cordial assent when Mitchell entered to tell her that luncheon was ready; and at the same time she handed her a telegram.
"It is for Miss Ward, ma'am," she said; "and the boy is waiting."