And Vaughan, heedless what he did or where he dined, but inclined in a sardonic way to amuse himself, went in with them. What did it matter? He was not going to vote for them. But that was his business, and Sir Robert’s. He was not responsible to them. Certainly he was in a very bad temper. XIII THE VERMUYDEN DINNER Vaughan began to think more soberly of his position when he found himself set down at the table. He had White, who took one end, on his right; and the Sergeant was opposite him. At the other end the Alderman presided, supported by Mr. Cooke and the Rector. The young man looked down the board, at the vast tureens that smoked on it, and at the faces, smug or jolly, hungry or expectant, that surrounded them; and amid the flood of talk which burst forth the moment his reverence had said a short grace, he began to feel the situation uncomfortable. True, he had a sort of right to be there, as the heir, and a Vermuyden. True, too, he owed nothing to anyone there; nothing to the Sergeant, whom he secretly disliked, nothing to Mr. Cooke, whom he despised—in his heart he was as exclusive as Sir Robert himself—nothing to White, who would one day be his paid dependant. He owed them no explanation. Why then should he expose himself to their anger and surprise? He would be silent and speak only when the time came, and he could state his views to Sir Robert with a fair chance of a fair hearing. Still he saw that the position in which he had placed himself was a false one: and might become ridiculous. And it crossed his mind to feign illness and to go out and incontinently walk over to Stapylton and see Sir Robert. Or he might tell White quietly that he did not find himself able to support his cousin’s nominations: and before the news got abroad he might withdraw and let them think what they would. But he was too proud to do the one, and in too sulky a mood to do the other. And he sat still. “Where is Sir Robert?” he asked. “He left home on a sudden call, this morning, sir,” White explained; wondering what made the young squire—who was wont to be affable—so distant. “On unexpected business.” “It must have been important as well as unexpected,” Wathen said, with a smile, “to take Sir Robert away today, Mr. White.” “It was both, sir, as I understood,” White answered, “for Sir Robert did not make me acquainted with it. He seemed somewhat put out—more put out than I have often seen him. But he said that whatever happened he would be back before the nomination.” And then, turning to Vaughan, “You must have passed him, sir?” he added. “Well, now I think of it,” Vaughan answered, his spoon suspended, “I did. I met a travelling carriage and four with jackets like his. But, I thought it was empty.” “No, sir, that was Sir Robert. He will not be best pleased,” White continued, turning to the Sergeant, “when he hears what a reception we had!”