After hurried greetings were over, Willis said abruptly: ‘I want to get back to town to-night, and I have come down here in consequence of a telegram from Dawkins, who tells me that you have all got into a nonsensical squabble owing to his interference with the intention of setting you right.’
‘I thoroughly agree with you, Willis—it is a nonsensical squabble, but who the deuce is to blame for it?’ said the Squire with a good-natured laugh.
‘Glad to hear you ask the question,’ rejoined Willis, who, being a plain and practical person, came to the main point at once. ‘The first thing you have got to understand is that Dawkins is not to blame; the next thing you have got to understand is that I am the party you have got to blow up. But before you begin with me, you had better take my good-natured brother-in-law to task, and before you do that, I want to have a few words with you, John Elliott.’
‘You had better speak out whatever you have to say here,’ muttered Elliott of Arrowby with a painfully feeble assumption of haughtiness.
‘Would you like that, Sophy?’ said Willis, addressing his sister, Mrs John.
‘I think I understand the whole position, Matt,’ she replied. ‘Indeed, I think we all understand it now. The poor Major blundered about his letters; we all got the wrong ones, and misinterpreted their meaning. We need not go into the details, for, as you know, they would be painful to me as well as to John. Take Joe away with you, and get him to express to the Major the regret that we all feel for the annoyance we have caused him.’
‘Come along,’ said the Squire promptly. ‘We’ll pacify him somehow.’ As he was passing his wife, he whispered to her: ‘I hope you are satisfied now, Kitty;’ and she gave an approving nod. ‘But I wish he had been down with us to breakfast.’
The Squire and Matt Willis proceeded to the library; and there a very few additional words satisfied the former that the unfortunate friend of the family had been trying to discharge a disagreeable duty which he thought himself bound to undertake.
The Major was hurt enough by the awkward position in which he was placed; but that was not the reason why he kept to his chamber. He was not thinking of breakfast or the misunderstanding with his friends. Still, in his dressing-gown he was pacing the floor in a state of cruel distress. His hair was tossed about wildly and—it was of a ghastly gray-green colour! That wicked burglar had taken away the precious Russian leather case—no doubt thinking it contained jewelry—and it had not been amongst the articles found last night. Without it, the Major could not perform his toilet. This was the cruellest blow of all to the poor man. It was impossible for him to appear before any one in his present guise; and he even avoided the mirrors, lest he should catch sight of his own head. Hollis had been despatched to make diligent search in every spot where the case might have fallen; and his master was waiting in agony for the result. A knock at the door.—Ah, there he is at last! No, it was only Parker to say that Mr Willis had arrived, and was with the Squire in the library waiting for Major Dawkins.
‘Make my excuses, please, and say that I cannot go down yet, but will be with them as soon as possible.’