Strictly speaking, it was ten minutes past two, and Cris burst into the dining-room with a heated face, afraid lest he should come in for the end of the meal. Whatever might be the hour fixed, dinner had to be on the table to the minute; and it generally was so. Miss Diana was an exacting mistress. Cris burst in, hair untidy, hands unwashed, desperately afraid of losing his share.
He drew a long face. Not a soul was in the room, and the dining-table showed its bright mahogany. Cris rang the bell.
"What time do we dine to-day?" he asked sharply of the servant who answered it.
"What a nuisance! And I am as hungry as a hunter. Get me something to eat. Here--stop--where are they all?"
"Madam's at home, sir; and I think Miss Octave's at home. The rest are out."
Cris muttered something which was not heard, which perhaps he did not intend should be heard; and when his luncheon was brought in, he sat down to it with great satisfaction. After he had finished, he went to the stables, and by-and-by came in to find his sister.
"Octave, I want to take you for a drive. Will you go?"
The unwonted attention on her brother's part quite astonished Octave. Before now she had asked him to drive her out, and been met with a rough refusal. Cris was of that class of young men who see no good in overpowering their sisters with attention.
Octave felt dubious. She was writing letters to some particular friends with whom she kept up a correspondence, and did not care to be interrupted.
"Anywhere. We can drive through Barmester, and so home by the cross-roads. Or we'll go down the lower road to Barbrook, and go on to Barmester that way."
The suggestion did not offer sufficient attraction to Octave. "No," said she, "I am busy, and shall not go out this afternoon. I don't care to drive out when there's nothing to go for."
"You may as well come. It isn't often I ask you."
"No, that it is not," returned Octave, with emphasis. "You have some particular motive in asking me now, I know. What is it, Cris?"
"I want to try my new horse. They say he goes beautifully in harness."
"What! that handsome horse you took a fancy to the other day?--that papa said you should not buy?"
Cris nodded. "They let me have him for forty-five pounds."