Her hesitation caused him to neglect his crumpet, to look up at her. He saw at once that she wore the air of a sensitive and beautifully mannered elderly lady who was afraid she had made a mistake and said something awkward.
“I am so sorry,” she apologized. “Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned him.”
She was embarrassed. She evidently wished she had not spoken, but breeding demanded that she should ignore the awkwardness of the situation, if awkwardness existed.
“Of course--I hope your tea is quite as you like it--of course there is no real reason. But--shall I give you some more cream? No? You see, if he hadn’t died, he--he would have inherited Temple Barholm.”
Now he was interested. This was the other chap.
“Instead of me?” he asked, to make sure. She endeavored not to show embarrassment and told herself it didn’t really matter--to a thoroughly nice person. But--
“He was the next of kin--before you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you hadn’t heard of him. It seemed natural that Mr. Palford should have mentioned him.”
“He did say that there was a young fellow who had died, but he didn’t tell me about him. I guess I didn’t ask. There were such a lot of other things. I’d like to hear about him. You say you knew him?”
“Only when he was a little fellow. Never after he grew up. Something happened which displeased my father. I’m afraid papa was very easily displeased. Mr. Temple Barholm disliked him, too. He would not have him at Temple Barholm.”
“He hadn’t much luck with his folks, had he?” remarked Tembarom.
“He had no luck with any one. I seemed to be the only person who was fond of him, and of course I didn’t count.”
“I bet you counted with him,” said Tembarom.
“I do think I did. Both his parents died quite soon after he was born, and people who ought to have cared for him were rather jealous because he stood so near to Temple Barholm. If Mr. Temple Barholm had not been so eccentric and bitter, everything would have been done for him; but as it was, he seemed to belong to no one. When he came to the vicarage it used to make me so happy. He used to call me Aunt Alicia, and he had such pretty ways.” She hesitated and looked quite tenderly at the tea-pot, a sort of shyness in her face. “I am sure,” she burst forth, “I feel quite sure that you will understand and won’t think it indelicate; but I had thought so often that I should like to have a little boy--if I had married,” she added in hasty tribute to propriety.