Mr. Foxey was so startled that his spectacles fell to the ground. Charles Plackett rose and pushed back his chair: he, too, was alarmed. Jago, taken aback like the rest, as might be seen from his countenance, motioned the visitors from the room. "Indeed, indeed, I won't answer for the consequences if you stay," he earnestly whispered. Hubert Stone was holding the door open.
"Cross-grained as ever," muttered the lawyer as he went out.
Hubert reconducted them to the drawing-room, and ordered in biscuits and sherry, which Eliza brought. Presently Dr. Jago joined them.
"He is coming round again," said the Doctor. "All his life, as I hear, Squire Denison has been subject to these little gusts of temper: but----"
"Little, you call them!" put in Mr. Plackett, sipping his wine.
The Doctor smiled faintly. "They are what we are most afraid of, I was about to say; and they are fearfully exhausting to him in his present condition."
"Rather an uncomfortable kind of man to live with," said Mr. Plackett, with a shrug.
"He certainly is a little trying at times," assented Hubert, with an emphatic nod. "But then, we are used to him."
"I suppose the Squire's niece, Miss Winter, looks carefully after his comforts?" observed the lawyer.
"Miss Winter is on the Continent: she has not been at home since last October," answered Hubert, with a brighter sparkle in his dark eyes.