seating himself opposite Kate.
“But you should, my dear.”
Wilton gave his niece a merry look and a nod, which was intended to mean, “You attend to me.”
“Yes, you should, my dear,” he went on, imitating his wife’s manner; “and why don’t you put on goloshes when you go out?”
Claud stared at his father, and looked as if he thought he was a little touched mentally.
“Isn’t it disgusting, Kitty, my dear?” said Wilton. “She’d wrap him up in a flannel and feed him with a spoon if she had her way with the great strong hulking fellow.”
“Don’t you take any notice of your uncle’s nonsense, my dear. Claud, my love, will you take Kitty’s cup to her?”
“She’d make a regular molly-coddle of him. And we don’t want doctoring here. Had enough of that the past fortnight. I say, you’re going to throw Leigh overboard this morning. Don’t want him any more, do you?”
“Oh, no, I shall be quite well now.”
“Yes,” said her uncle, with a knowing look. “Don’t you have any more of it. And I say, you’ll have to pay his long bill for jalap and pilly coshy. That is if you can afford it.”
“I do wish, my dear, you’d let the dear child have her breakfast in peace; and do sit down and let your cousin be, Claud, dear; I’m sure she will not eat bacon. It’s so fidgeting to have things forced upon you.”
“You eat your egg, ma! Kitty and I understand each ether. She wants feeding up, and I’m going to be the feeder.”
“That’s right, boy; she wants stamina.”
“But she can’t eat everything on the table, James.”
“Who said she could? She isn’t a stout elderly lady.”
The head of the family looked at his niece with a broad smile, as if in search of a laugh for his jest, but the smile that greeted him was very wan and wintry.
“Any letters, my dear?” said Mrs Wilton, as the breakfast went on, with Kate growing weary of her cousin’s attentions, all of which took the form of a hurried movement to her side of the table, and pressure brought to bear over the breakfast delicacies.
The wintry look appeared to be transferred from Kate’s to her uncle’s face, but it was not wan; on the contrary, it was decidedly stormy.
“Yes,” he said, with a grunt.
“Anything particular?”
“Yes, very.”
“What is it, my dear?”
“Don’t both – er – letter from John Garstang.”
“Oh, dear me!” said Mrs Wilton, looking aghast; and her husband kicked out one foot for her special benefit, but as his leg was not eight feet long the shot was a miss.
“Says he’ll run down for a few days to settle that little estate business; and that it will give him an opportunity to have a few chats with Kate here. You say you like Mr Garstang, my dear?”
“Oh, yes,” said Kate, quietly; “he was always very nice and kind to me.”
“Of course, my darling; who would not be?” said Mrs Wilton.
“Claud, boy, I suppose the pheasants are getting scarce.”
“Oh, there are a few left yet,” said the young man.
“You must get up a beat and try and find a few hares, too. Uncle Garstang likes a bit of shooting. Used to see much of John Garstang, my dear, when you were at home?”
“No, uncle, not much. He used to come and dine with us sometimes, and he was always very kind to me from the time I was quite a little girl, but my father and he were never very intimate.”
“A very fine-looking man, my dear, and so handsome,” said Mrs Wilton.
“Yes, very,” said her husband, dryly; “and handsome is as handsome does.”
“Yes, my dear, of course,” said Mrs Wilton; and very little more was said till the end of the breakfast, when the lady of the house asked what time the guest would be down.
“Asks me to send the dog-cart to meet the mid-day train. Humph! rain’s over and sun coming out. Here, Claud, take your cousin round the greenhouse and the conservatory. She hasn’t seen the plants.”
“All right, father. Don’t mind me smoking, do you, Kitty?”
“Of course she’ll say no,” said Wilton testily; “but you can surely do without your pipe for an hour or two.”
“Oh, very well,” said Claud, ungraciously; and he offered his cousin his arm.
She looked surprised at the unnecessary attention, but took it; and they went out through the French window into the broad verandah, the glass door swinging to after them.
“What a sweet pair they’ll make, James, dear,” said Mrs Wilton, smiling fondly after her son. “How nicely she takes to our dear boy!”
“Yes, like the rest of the idiots. Girl always says snap to the first coat and trousers that come near her.”
“Oh, James, dear! you shouldn’t say that I’m sure I didn’t!”
“You! Well, upon my soul! How you can stand there and utter such a fib! But never mind; it’s going to be easy enough, and we’ll get it over as soon as we decently can, if you don’t make some stupid blunder and spoil it.”
“James, dear!”
“Be just like you. But a nice letter I’ve had from John Garstang about that mortgage. Never mind, though; once this is over I can snap my fingers at him. So be as civil as you can; and I suppose we must give him some of the best wine.”
“Yes, dear, and have out the china dinner service.”
“Of course. But I wish you’d put him into a damp bed.”
“Oh, James, dear! I couldn’t do that.”
“Yes, you could; give him rheumatic fever and kill him. But I suppose you won’t.”
“Indeed I will not, dear. There are many wicked things that I feel I could do, but put a Christian man into a damp bed – no!”
“Humph! Well, then, don’t; but I hope that boy will be careful and not scare Kitty.”
“What, Claud? Oh, no, my dear, don’t be afraid of that. My boy is too clever; and, besides, he’s beginning to love the very ground she walks on. Really, it seems to me quite a Heaven-made matter.”
“Always is, my dear, when the lady has over a hundred thousand pounds,” said Wilton, with a grim smile; “but we shall see.”
Chapter Eight
“I say, don’t be in such
