“But he is nice,” Daintry persisted. “You do think so, Kate, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, he is very nice,” she said drily. “But he will be in the Hammond set at home, and we shall see nothing of him.”
But presently he was back, and Kate found it impossible to resist the charm. He ladled the soup and dispensed the mutton-chops with a gaiety and boyish glee which were really the stored-up effervescence of weeks, the ebullition of the long-repressed delight which he took in his promotion. He learned casually that the girls had been in London for more than a month staying with Jack’s mother in Bayswater, and that they were very sorry to be upon their road home.
“And yet,” he said—this was toward the end of dinner—“I have been told that your town is a very picturesque one. But I fancy that we never appreciate our home as we do a place strange to us.”
“Very likely that is so,” Kate answered quietly. And then a little pause ensued, such as he had observed several times before, and come to connect with any mention of Claversham. The girls’ tongues would run on frankly and pleasantly enough about their London visit, or Mr. Gladstone; but let him bring the talk round to his parish and its people, and forthwith something of reserve seemed to come between him and them until the conversation strayed afield again.
After the others had finished, he still toyed with his meal, partly in lazy enjoyment of the time, partly as an excuse for staying with them. They were sitting in a momentary silence, when a boy passed the window chanting a ditty at the top of his voice. The doggrel came clearly to their ears——
Here we sit like birds in the wilderness,
Birds in the wilderness, birds in the wilderness;
Here we sit like birds in the wilderness,
Samuel asking for more.