Then Mr. Grainger
would have his man instructed to let the ladies have some tea on
board; and he would give Master Harry the key of certain receptacles
in which he would find cans of preserved meat, fancy biscuits, jam,
and even a few bottles of dry sillery; finally, he would immediately
hurry off to see about fishing-rods. Trelyon had to acknowledge to
himself that this worthy person deserved the best dinner that the
hotel could produce.
In the afternoon he walked along to fetch Mrs. Rosewarne and her
daughter, his face bright with expectation. Mrs. Rosewarne was dressed
and ready when he went in, but she said, "I am afraid I can't go, Mr.
Trelyon. Wenna says she is a little tired, and would rather stay at
home."
"Wenna, that isn't fair," he said, obviously hurt. "You ought to make
some little effort when you know it will do your mother good. And it
will do you good too, if only you make up your mind to go."
She hesitated for a moment: she saw that her mother was disappointed.
Then, without a word, she went and put on her hat and shawl.
"Well," he said approvingly, "you are very reasonable and very
obedient. But we can't have you go with us with such a face as that.
People would say we were going to a funeral."
A shy smile came over the gentle features, and she turned aside.
"And we can't have you pretend that we forced you to go.
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