I was praising Jill's buttered toast, for I knew she prided herself on this delicacy, and she had just cut herself a thick wedge of the seed-cake, which she was discussing with a school-girl's appetite, when I heard Uncle Brian's voice calling for Ursula rather loudly: so I ran to the head of the staircase, and, to my surprise, saw him coming up in his slow, dignified manner.
'Look here, Ursula, I shall be late at the Pollocks', and your aunt and Sara have gone on, and there is Tudor in the drawing-room, just arrived with a message from Cunliffe. Of course we must put him up; but the trouble is there is no dinner, and of course he is famished: young men always are.'
My heart sank as I thought of Jill, but there was no help for it. Max's friends were sacred. Mr. Tudor must be made as comfortable as possible.
'It cannot be helped, Uncle Brian,' I returned, trying to keep the vexation I felt out of my voice. 'Supposing you send Mr. Tudor up to the schoolroom, and we will give him some tea. Jill has made some excellent buttered toast, and Clayton can get some supper for him by and by in the dining-room: there is sure to be a cold joint,—or perhaps Mrs. Martin will have something cooked for him.'
'That must do,' he replied, somewhat relieved at this advice. 'We shall be back soon after tea, so you will not have him long on your hands. Entertain him as well as you can, there's a good girl.' He had quite forgotten, and so had I for the moment, that Fräulein was out for the evening, and that possibly Aunt Philippa might object to a young man joining the schoolroom tea; but, as it proved afterwards, she was more shocked at Uncle Brian than at any one else: she said he ought to have given up his dinner and stayed with his guest.
'I confess I do not see what Ursula could have done better,' she remarked severely; 'she could not spend the evening alone with him in the drawing-room; and of course he wanted his tea. That comes of allowing Fräulein to neglect her duties: she is too fond of spending her time with Fräulein Misschenstock.'
I did not dare break the news to Jill, for fear she should lock herself in her own room, for she never liked the society of young men; they laughed at her too much, in a civil sort of way: so I hurried down into the drawing-room and explained matters to Mr. Tudor, whom I found walking about the room and looking somewhat ill at ease.
He seemed rather amused at the idea of the schoolroom tea, but owned that he was hungry and tired, as he had had a fourteen-mile walk that day.
'It is all Mr. Cunliffe's fault that I am quartered on you in this way,' he said, laughing a little nervously—and very likely Uncle Brian's dignified reception had made him uncomfortable; 'but he would insist on my bringing my bag, and Mr. Garston has a dinner-engagement, and cannot attend to business until to-morrow morning.'
'I am afraid you would like a dinner-engagement too, after your fourteen miles,' I returned, in a sympathetic voice, for he did look very tired. 'We will give you some tea now, and then you can get rid of the dust of the journey, and by that time Mrs. Martin will have done her best to provide you with some supper.'