“Thank you, Miss Sefton,” returned Bessie, blushing at such an unexpected compliment. “I think I must tell Hatty that.”
“Hatty! Oh, you mean the little pale-faced sister with the clever eyes. Now, what did I say to you? That I preferred Edna to Miss Sefton. Oh, there goes the second gong, and Richard has only just come in. Mamma will be so vexed at his unpunctuality. Why, I declare if Mac has not taken up his quarters under your table. I suppose he approves of Miss Daisy as much as I do.”
Edna chatted after this fashion as she tripped down the oak staircase, while Bessie followed her more slowly. They found Mrs. Sefton in a somewhat ruffled mood. She looked handsomer than ever in her gray silk dress; her hands were blazing with diamond rings, her dark hair was still unmixed with gray, and hardly needed the lace cap that covered it.
“Richard has only just come in, mamma; need we wait for him?”
“It is our duty to wait for the master of the house, Edna, however much we are inconvenienced by the delay.” And Mrs. Sefton fanned herself with a dissatisfied expression. “Your brother never thinks of our comfort, as long as he is engrossed with his own occupations. I must apologize to you, Miss Lambert, for our unpunctuality. I am sure, after such a journey, you must need your dinner.”
“I am not at all hungry, thank you,” replied Bessie, whose appetite was not stimulated by her hostess’ aggrieved remarks. She sat literally on thorns during the next five minutes, while Mrs. Sefton fanned herself, and Edna walked up and down the room, humming snatches of songs, and then breaking off into a sarcastic observation on the length of Richard’s toilet.
“I shall expect great results,” she was just saying, as the door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered young man advanced rather awkwardly into the room.
“I am afraid I am late again, mother,” he began apologetically; but Mrs. Sefton apparently took no notice of this remark, except by a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“We have been waiting half an hour,” broke in Edna, with a pout. “You get worse and worse, Richard. Now, will you take in my friend, Miss Lambert? and mamma and I will follow.”
Bessie rose at once, as Mr. Sefton offered his arm, but beyond a stiff bow he took no further notice of her. His face wore a moody expression as they seated themselves at the table. His reception had evidently damped him.