CHAPTER IX.
RICHARD SEFTON.
“Richard is a perfect bear!” exclaimed Edna angrily, as she threw herself into one of the wicker seats on the lawn. It was a lovely evening; the sun was just setting, and she had invited Bessie to take a stroll round the garden.
“The dews are very heavy,” remonstrated her friend. “I think we had better keep to the gravel paths.” And then Edna had got up from her seat, grumbling as she did so, and had again reiterated her opinion that Richard was a bear.
“I think something must have put him out,” returned Bessie, who was always prompt in defence of the absent. “He did not look quite happy.”
“That was because mamma was so vexed about his unpunctuality, and about Malcolmson. Richard hates to vex her, and when she looks at him like that he always becomes gloomy and morose. I have known him silent for days, when they have fallen out about something. I am taking you behind the scenes, Bessie, but all our friends know that mamma and Richard do not agree. You see, mamma is very clever, and she likes managing, and Richard has a will of his own; he is very tenacious of his own opinions, and when he has got an idea into his head he can be as stubborn as a mule.”
“Don’t you think a man has a right to his own opinion, Edna?”
Edna pursed up her lips.
“A man like Neville, perhaps, who is clever and knows the world; but Richard is a perfect child in some things. He ought to be reasonable, and allow mamma to have her way. Now, she dislikes Malcolmson—she does not believe in him; and Richard, as you hear, swears by him.”
“Who is Mr. Malcolmson, if I may venture to ask?”
“Oh, he is an ugly, scrubby little Scotchman whom Richard means to take as a sort of bailiff, or overseer, or something; I don’t understand what.”