“My father! Oh, did you not know, Aunt Catherine?—he died out in Sydney a year ago. Poor old fellow! he had a terrible illness. There was no pulling him through it.”
Mrs. Challoner roused up at this:
“Your father dead! Then, Harry, you have come to the title?”
But her nephew burst into a boisterous laugh at this:
“Yes,—a title and an old ruin. A precious heritage, is it not? Not that I care what people call me. The most important part is that another fellow—Dalton they call him—and I made a grand hit out in Sydney. When I saw the money flowing in, I just sent for the poor old governor to join me; and we did not have a bad time of it, until the gout took him off. And then I got sick of it all, and thought I would have a look at England and hunt up my relations.”
Sir Harry had blurted out this long speech as he still attentively regarded the lining of his hat; but, happening to look up, he caught Phillis’s eyes, which were contemplating him. The mischievous look of fun in them was not to be resisted. Sir 289 Harry first got redder, if possible; then his own eyes began to twinkle, and finally they both laughed. And after that the ice was broken, and they got on famously.
The girls chattered to him like magpies. They made Mattie take off her hat and hideous old waterproof and stay to luncheon. Nan smoothed her hair, which was sadly ruffled, and Phillis settled her brooch and collar.
There was only cold mutton in the larder; but what did that matter? Dulce ran out in the garden and picked dahlias for the table; and Nan took her mother’s keys and drew from the recesses of a dim sweet-smelling press some dainty napkins and a fine old cloth that might have suited a princess. There was a bottle of rare Madeira that remained from their stock of wine; and Dorothy had made a batch of fresh dinner-rolls. Dorothy was always full of resources in an emergency.
“Don’t fash yourself, Miss Nan,” she said, when her young mistress came into the kitchen. “The cold mutton can’t be helped; but we have got angels in the larder, and I will just pop them into the oven.”
Sir Harry roared with laughter when Dorothy’s speech was repeated to him. The little puddings were declared by Mattie to be delicious; but Sir Harry could scarcely eat his for laughing.