"And there comes Fenton," added Esther, springing up to go and meet him. For Fenton it was, bounding up the bank at their left.
Fenton was grown a good deal since our last sight of him; otherwise not much changed. A handsome boy, with a good figure and a bright eye, and also the old, somewhat supercilious upper lip. But he was glad to get home, and greeted the party cordially enough; then, however, began to criticise.
"What are you all doing loafing here?" He had sat down on the bank with the rest, and looked from one to another.
"We do not use your elegant expression," said Flora; "partly perhaps because we are not wont to indulge ourselves in that particular amusement."
"What are you doing?"
"You do not see anything to engage our attention in what at present offers itself to yours," Meredith remarked.
"Nothing offers itself to my attention," replied Fenton. "I don't see anything except our old cart. Anything to eat in it?"
"There is no pie left," said Esther, "for I gave the last of it to Fairbairn; and Flora drank up all the cream. There's some sugar in the sugar-bowl."
Fenton went to get some lumps of sugar, and then stood looking down at the party.
"Aren't you going home to dinner?" said he. "I tell you, I'm raging."