It is all very well to say class distinctions are rubbish and that all men are equal, but I could not feel flattered to find my Admirable Crichton in plush breeches. The more I thought of it the more wonderful it appeared. When I got over the first shock my brain began to steady itself. I was sure of two things: first and foremost, that the footman was the man I had travelled with; secondly, that the man I had travelled with was a gentleman; but how to reconcile the two facts I did not know.
When I went down into the drawing-room I found a large party assembled for dinner: a number of men, mostly young, standing about in groups. These were some neighbours whom Sir Alexander had invited to shoot and dine. Lady Sutherland, Mysie, and myself were the only ladies.
After a painful indecision upstairs I had come to the conclusion that I must in some way acknowledge the existence of my travelling companion. After our friendly intercourse yesterday it would be snobbish to pretend I had never seen him before. And yet I was in agony to know how to do it. Young, shy, staying for the first time in a large country house, among people higher than myself in the social scale, it was not agreeable to flaunt an acquaintance with one of the men-servants. Still, it had to be done, if only for the sake of my own self-respect.
And this was the man before whom I had blushed for poor Aunt Maria yesterday! Only yesterday? It seemed a week ago!
So as I walked in to dinner on Sir Alexander's arm and passed close to my footman, I gave him a slight—a very slight—inclination of the head, it could hardly be called a bow.
I devoutly hoped nobody behind detected it, but I could see it was not lost upon my footman. He was equal to the occasion. The only acknowledgment he made was to put a still more respectful deference into the curve of his respectful, deferential back. I breathed more freely as I sat down in my place on Sir Alexander's right.
"'ARE ALL YOUR FOOTMEN CALLED PETER?' I ASKED."
We were eleven to dinner, and a little discussion ensued as to who should sit near my friend Mysie. I noticed a good deal of manœuvring on the part of a dark, middle-aged man to sit there. Mysie saw it too, and seemed pleased when he succeeded. As he drew in his chair to the table he gave her a glance which spoke volumes. I was quite excited. I wondered if anyone else had noticed it. I was certain there was something between those two.
This was the only interest I had. My host was absorbed in the carving and in the details of the day's sport; my other neighbour was evidently too hungry to waste his time in talking to a chit of a girl like myself. It was a dull and tedious meal. Lady Sutherland was gentle and polite, but not talkative. Mysie was too absorbed in her neighbour. As they were on the opposite side of the table I could catch a word now and then, though they spoke in an undertone.