"I feel like Christopher Sly," said Doris, surveying the scene, with her
hands in her jacket pockets. "So will she. But never mind!"
* * * * *
Events flowed on. Lord and Lady Dunstable came back by tea-time,
bringing with them the solicitor, who was also the chief factor of their
Scotch estate. Lord Dunstable looked old and wearied. He came to find
Doris on the lawn, pressing her hand with murmured words of thanks.
"If that child Alice Wigram--of course I remember her well!--brings us
information we can go upon, we shall be all right. At least there's
hope. My poor boy! Anyway, we can never be grateful enough to you."
As for Lady Dunstable, the large circle which gathered for tea under a
group of Scotch firs talked indeed, since Franick Castle existed for
that purpose, but they talked without a leader. Their hostess sat silent
and sombre, with thoughts evidently far away. She took no notice of
Meadows whatever, and his attempts to draw her fell flat. A neighbour
had walked over, bringing with him--maliciously--a Radical M.
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