The meal went off pleasantly on the whole, though there loomed a storm as to the ritual of St. Kenelm’s; but this chiefly was owing to the younger division of the company, when Valetta broke into an unnecessary inquiry why they did not have as many lights on the altar at St. Andrew’s as at St. Kenelm’s, and Fergus put her down with unceremoniously declaring that Stebbing said Flight was a donkey.
Gillian came down with what she meant for a crushing rebuke, and the indignant colour rose in the cheeks of the guests; but Fergus persisted, ‘But he makes a guy of himself and a mountebank.’
Aunt Jane thought it time to interfere. ‘Fergus,’ she said, ‘you had better not repeat improper sayings, especially about a clergyman.’
‘And,’ added Aunt Ada, with equal severity, ‘you know Mr. Flight is a very kind friend to little Maura and her sister.’
‘Indeed he is,’ said Kalliope earnestly; and Maura, feeling herself addressed, added, ‘Nobody but he ever called on poor mamma, till Miss Mohun did; no, not Lady Flight.’
‘We are very grateful for his kindness,’ put in Kalliope, in a repressive tone.
‘But,’ said Gillian, ‘I thought you said he had seemed to care less of late.’
‘I do not know,’ said Miss White, blushing; ‘music seems to be his chief interest, and there has not been anything fresh to get up since the concert.’
‘I suppose there will be for the winter,’ said Miss Mohun, and therewith the conversation was safely conducted away to musical subjects, in which some of the sisters’ pride and affection for their brothers peeped out; but Gillian was conscious all the time that Kalliope was speaking with some constraint when she mentioned Alexis, and that she was glad rather to dwell on little Theodore, who had good hopes of the drawing prize, and she seriously consulted Miss Mohun on the pupil-teachership for him, as after he had passed the seventh standard he could not otherwise go on with his education, though she did not think he had much time for teaching.
‘Would not Mr. White help him further?’ asked Miss Mohun.
‘I do not know. I had much rather not ask,’ said Kalliope. ‘We are too many to throw ourselves on a person who is no near relation, and he has not seemed greatly disposed to help.’