ook here, Wenna," he said. "What could you mean by
treating me so unfairly? I don't mean in being vexed with me, but in
shunting me off, as it were, instead of having it out at once. I don't
think it was fair."

"I am very sorry," she said. "I think I was very wrong, but you don't
know what a girl feels about such things. Will you come into the inn?"

"And leave my horses? No," he said, good-naturedly. "But as soon as I
get that fellow out, I will; so you go in at once, and I'll follow you
directly. And mind, Wenna, don't you be so silly again, or you and I
may have a real quarrel; and I know that would break your heart."

The old pleased smile lit up her face again as she turned and went
in-doors: he meanwhile proceeded to summon a hostler by shouting his
name at the pitch of his voice.

The small party of women assembled in the parlor were a trifle
embarrassed: it was the first time that the great lady of the
neighborhood had honored the inn with a visit. She herself was merely
quiet, gentle and pleased, but Mrs. Rosewarne, with her fine eyes and
her sensitive face all lit up and quickened by, the novel excitement,
was all anxiety to amuse and interest and propitiate her distinguished
guest. Mabyn, too, was rather shy and embarrassed: she said things
hastily, and then seemed afraid of her interference. Wenna was
scarcely at her ease, because she saw that her mother and sister were
not; and she was very anxious, moreover, that these two should think
well of Mrs. Trelyon and be disposed to like her.

The sudden appearance of a man with a man's rough ways and loud voice
seemed to shake these feminine elements better together, and to clear
the air of timid apprehensions and cautions. Harry Trelyon came into
the room with quite a marked freshness and good-nature on his face.
His mother was surprised: what had completely changed his manner in a
couple of minutes?

"How are you, Mrs. Rosewarne?" he cried in his off-hand fashion. "You
oughtn't to be in-doors on such a morning, or we shall never get you
well, you know; and the doctor will be sending you to Penzance or
Devonport for a change. Well, Mabyn, have you convinced anybody yet
that your farm-laborers with their twelve shillings a week are better
off than the slate-workers with their eighteen? You'd better take your
sister's opinion on that point, and don't squabble with me. Mother,
what's the use of sitting here? You bring Miss Wenna with you into the
wagonette,