"Dear me," cried Mrs. Leslie, "who can that possibly be? Oliver, come from the window, sir, this instant, you will be seen! Juliet, run—ring the bell—no, go to the stairs, and say, 'not at home.' Not at home on any account," repeated Mrs. Leslie nervously, for the Montfydget blood was now in full flow.
In another minute or so, Frank's loud boyish voice was distinctly heard at the outer door.
Randal slightly started.
"Frank Hazeldean's voice," said he; "I should like to see him, mother."
"See him," repeated Mrs. Leslie in amaze, "see him!—and the room in this state!"
Randal might have replied that the room was in no worse state than usual; but he said nothing. A slight flush came and went over his pale face; and then he leaned his cheek on his hand, and compressed his lips firmly.
The outer door closed with a sullen inhospitable jar, and a slipshod female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb.
"Who is that for?—give it to me, Jenny," cried Mrs. Leslie.
But Jenny shook her head, laid the card on the desk beside Randal, and vanished without saying a word.
"Oh look, Randal, look up," cried Oliver, who had again rushed to the window; "such a pretty gray pony!"