I was glad when the dinner, with its innumerable courses and interminable dessert, came at last to an end and we ladies were alone in the drawing-room.
"What do you think of the new importation, mamma?" said Mysie.
I blushed scarlet. For one brief moment I actually thought she was alluding to me, but I soon found out it was Peter she was talking about. That did not make me feel any cooler; if possible, I grew redder and redder.
Lady Sutherland considered a few minutes in a fat, comfortable sort of way. Then she said, slowly, "Well, dear, he puzzles me a good deal. I cannot think he has been well trained. He does not wait so cleverly as the last Peter. Didn't he spill something on your dress, my dear?" turning to me.
"Oh, that's nothing," I replied, eagerly, twisting my skirt still more out of shape to hide the huge brown spot. To change the conversation I went on, "Are all your footmen called Peter?"
"COLONEL WITHERINGTON WITH HIS HAND ON PETERS SHOULDER, THE PAIR SHAKING WITH LAUGHTER."
"Yes, at least the second one is." It was Lucy who answered me. "Our first footman is always called Charles and the second one Peter. Papa made that arrangement because he got so mixed when we changed servants. After all, mamma, the new Peter may improve. He can hardly have got over his journey yet."
I racked my brain for a change of subject. I was so afraid it should come out that we had travelled together. I was too young to see the amusing side of it, and was in terror lest Peter himself should reveal it to the kitchen. With more abruptness than was polite I turned to Mysie.
"Who was that dark man who sat by you at dinner?" I asked.