“What’s your name?” said Lord Torrington.
Nothing could have been meeker than the tone in which she spoke.
“H’m,” said Lord Torrington, “and you’re Mannix’s boy. Not much like your father. At school?”
“What are you doing in that bath-chair with the young lady wheeling you? Is that the kind of manners they teach at Haileybury?”
“Please,” said Priscilla, speaking very gently. “It’s not his fault.”
“He has sprained his ankle,” said Sir Lucius. “He can’t walk.”
“Oh,” said Lord Torrington. “Sprained ankle, is it?”
He turned and walked back to the lawn. Sir Lucius followed him.
“Rather a bear, I call him,” said Priscilla. “But, of course, he may be one of those cases of a heart of gold inside a rough skin. You can’t be sure. We did ‘As You Like It’ last Christmas--dramatic club, you know--and Sylvia Courtney had a bit to say about a toad ugly and venomous which yet wears a precious jewel in his head. I’d say he’s just the opposite. If there is a precious jewel--and there may be--it’s not in his head. Anyhow one great comfort is that he doesn’t remember spraining your ankle.”
Frank, who recollected Lord Torrington with disagreeable distinctness, did not find any great comfort in being totally forgotten. He would have liked, though he scarcely expected, some expression of regret that the accident had occurred.
“It’ll be all the easier,” said Priscilla, “to pay him back if he hasn’t any suspicion that we have an undying vendetta against him. I rather like vendettas, don’t you? There’s something rather noble in the idea of pursuing a man with implacable vengeance from generation to generation.”
“I don’t quite see,” said Frank, “what good a vendetta is. We can’t do anything while he’s in your father’s house. It wouldn’t be right.”
“All the same,” said Priscilla, “well score off him. For the immediate present we’ve got to wait and watch his every movement with glittering eyes and cynical smiles concealed behind our ingenuous brows. You needn’t say ‘ingenuous’ isn’t a real word, because it is. I put it in an English comp. last term and got full marks, which shows that it must be a good word.”
Priscilla was right in supposing that she would not be allowed to dine in the dining-room. Frank faced the banquet without her support. It was not a very pleasant meal for him. Lady Torrington shook hands with him and asked him whether he were the boy whom she had heard reciting a prize poem on the last Speech Day at Winchester. Frank told her that he was at Haileybury.