"Good afternoon, Miss Thorpe-Hatton," he said pleasantly. "I am sorry to have troubled you."
Her lips moved, but she said nothing. She half inclined her head. The door was softly closed.
Never was a young man more pleased with himself than Stephen Hurd, on the night he dined at Thorpe-Hatton. He had shot well all day, and been accepted with the utmost cordiality by the rest of the party. At dinner time, his hostess had placed him on her left hand, and though it was true she had not much to say to him, it was equally obvious that her duties were sufficient to account for her divided attention. He was quite willing to be ignored by the lady on his other side--a little elderly, and noted throughout the country for her husband-hunting proclivities. He recognized the fact that, apart from the personal side of the question, he could scarcely hope to be of any interest to her. The novelty of the situation, Wilhelmina's occasional remarks, and a dinner such as he had never tasted before were sufficient to keep him interested. For the rest he was content to twirl his moustache, of which he was inordinately proud, and lean back in his chair with the comfortable reflection that he was the first of his family to be offered the complete hospitality of Thorpe-Hatton.
Towards the close of dinner, his hostess leaned towards him.
"Have you seen or heard anything of a young man named Macheson in the village?" she asked.
"I have seen him once or twice," he answered. "Here on a missionary expedition or something of the sort, I believe."
"Has he made any attempt to hold a meeting?" she asked.
"Not that I have heard of," he replied. "He has been talking to some of the people, though. I saw him with old Gullimore yesterday."
"That reminds me," she remarked, "is it true that Gullimore has had trouble with his daughter?"
"I believe so," young Hurd admitted, looking downwards at his plate.
"The man was to blame for letting her leave the place," Wilhelmina declared, in cold, measured tones. "A pretty girl, I remember, but very vain, and a fool, of course. But about this young fellow Macheson. Do you know who he is, and where he came from?"
"I'm afraid I don't," he said doubtfully. "He belongs to some sort of brotherhood, I believe. I can't exactly make out what he's at. Seems a queer sort of place for him to come missioning, this!"