_
This morning Mr. Carruthers had his coffee alone. Mr. Barton and I
breakfasted quite early, before nine o'clock, and just as I was calling
the dogs in the hall for a run, with my out-door things already on, Mr.
Carruthers came down the great stairs with a frown on his face.
"Up so early!" he said. "Are you not going to pour out my tea for me,
then?"
"I thought you said coffee! No, I am going out," and I went on down the
corridor, the wolf-hounds following me.
"You are not a kind hostess!" he called after me.
"I am not a hostess at all," I answered back--"only a guest."
He followed me. "Then you are a very casual guest, not consulting the
pleasure of your host."
I said nothing. I only looked at him over my shoulder as I went down the
marble steps--looked at him and laughed, as on the night before.
He turned back into the house without a word, and I did not see him again
until just before luncheon.
There is something unpleasant about saying good-bye to a place, and I
found I had all sorts of sensations rising in my throat at various points
in my walk. However, all that is ridiculous and must be forgotten. As I
was coming round the corner of the terrace, a great gust of wind nearly
blew me into Mr. Carruthers's arms. Odious weather we are having this
autumn!
"Where have you been all the morning?" he said, when we had recovered
ourselves a little.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36