"What did he say? Come, speak, child!"

"He asked me who I was, aunt; and what I had come for."

"Of course, you silly little thing. There, no more tears. It's dreadful treatment, isn't it, to make you go in and attend to him a little?"

"Please, aunt, I don't mind that," said the girl.

"No, I should think not, indeed," said Mrs Lloyd. "He's an ogre to look at, isn't he?"

"No, aunt, I think he's a fine, handsome man."

"Not a finer, nor a handsomer, nor a nicer in all Cornwall: and you ought to be fine and pleased to be in the house. And now look here, madam--no more tears, if you please."

"No, aunt."

"And you're always to be nicely dressed, and do your hair well."

"Yes, aunt."

"And keep yourself to yourself, madam. Recollect, please, that you're my niece, staying in the house, and not one of the servants."

"Yes, aunt."

The door opened, and the butler put in his head.

"It's lunch-time now, and I am having the things taken in again."

"That's quite right."

"Do you want to come?"

"Not now; only Mary shall bring in the vegetables."

"Hadn't William better help?" said the butler.

"No, not to-day. There will be a pack more people here to-morrow, and she can't come then. Here, child, take these clean napkins and be ready to carry them into the dining-room."

"But my face, aunt--won't they see?"

"What--that you have been crying?" said the housekeeper, critically.

"No; they won't. Stop here a minute while I go out into the hall."

The girl, from being scarlet, was now pale, but quite a little "rustic beauty" all the same; and she stood by the linen press looking very troubled, while Mrs Lloyd went back into the hall, where Trevor had stepped out to speak to the butler.

"Oh, there you are, Mrs Lloyd," he said, in a quiet, decided tone of voice. "I was just speaking to Lloyd about one or two little matters.

Of course, I feel the highest respect for both you and your worthy husband."

"Thank you, Master d.i.c.k," said the housekeeper, stiffly.

"Yes, that's it," said Trevor. "And of course you can't help looking upon me as the boy you were almost father and mother to at one time."

"Of course not," said Mrs Lloyd, stiffly; "but you don't mean to turn us away now you have grown a man?"

"G.o.d forbid!" said Trevor, earnestly. "While I live, this is your home, and I shall interfere but little with you in the conduct of the house.

But I take this opportunity of saying that I must ask of you both to remember--old friends as well as old servants of the family--that I have now come back to take my position here as the master of Penreife, and that, in speaking to me before visitors, 'Master d.i.c.k' sounds rather childish. That will do, Mrs Lloyd. Yes, Lloyd, you can bring in some of the claret."

He walked into the dining-room, the quiet, calm man of the world, with enough dignity and self-a.s.sertion to show the housekeeper that the days of her rule had departed for ever.

"That's going to sea, that is," she muttered. "That's being used to order people about, and being an officer. But we shall see, Master d.i.c.k--we shall see!"

And with a quick, spasmodic twitching of her hands as she smoothed down her ap.r.o.n, she went back muttering to her own room.

Volume 1, Chapter XIII.

MISHAPS.

Lunch at Tolcarne that day was not one of the most pleasant of meals.

Sir Hampton had come in, looking purple instead of red with his walk, to pause at the hall door and dismiss Sanders, the gardener, who stood mopping his face.

"Er-rum! Look here, Sanders!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, sir," said Sanders.

"Yes, Sir Hampton, man!"

"Yes, Sir Hampton," said Sanders, slowly and impressively, as if he were trying to fix the formula in his mind.

"I'll see you in the morning about a new bed on the lawn, and--er-rum-- don't let this affair be talked about."

"No, sir--Hampton," said Sanders.

He went heavily down the new path, while his master stood apparently loading himself--that is to say, he thrust what seemed to be a white gun-wad into his mouth, before turning into the hall, and letting off a tremendous "Er-rum," which echoed through the house. The wad, however, was only a digestive tablet, an antidote to the heartburn, from which Sir Hampton suffered; and he strode into the dining-room, where the family was already a.s.sembled for luncheon.

"Oh, dad--papa," cried Fin, "such news for you."

"Don't worry your papa, my dear," said Miss Matilda, smoothing her handkerchief, which, from being sat upon, resembled a cambric cake; "wait till he has had some refreshment. He is tired. Hampton, will you take a cutlet?"

"Don't, pa. Have some chicken pie."

"Shall I send you a poached egg, dear?" said Lady Rea, who was in difficulties with the mustard-pot, the protruding spoon of which had entangled itself with her open lace sleeve, and the yellow condiment was flowing over the table.

"No," said Sir Hampton, gruffly.

"Tut, tut, tut," said Lady Rea, making matters worse by trying to sc.r.a.pe up the mustard with a spoon.

"Hadn't you better let Edward do that, dear?" said Miss Matilda, with a pained expression of countenance, as she played pat-a-cake once more with her handkerchief.

"They do make the mustard so horribly thin," said Lady Rea. "Finetta, give papa some of the pie."