Phyllis was waked by the bells ringing for the afternoon service; Mrs. Weston was sitting by her, reading, Claude came to inquire for her, and to tell her that as she had lost her early dinner, she was to join the rest of the party at six. To her great surprise she felt quite well and fresh, and her arm was much better; Mrs. Weston pinned up her sleeve, and she set off with her to church, wondering whether Ada would remember to tell her what she had missed that afternoon at school. Those whose approbation was valuable, honoured Phyllis for her conduct, but she did not perceive it, or seek for it; she did not look like a heroine while running about and playing with Reginald and the dogs in the evening, but her papa had told her she was a good child, Claude had given her one of his kindest smiles, and she was happy. Even when Esther was looking at the mark left by the sting, and telling her that she was sure Miss Marianne Weston would have not been half so good, her simple, humble spirit came to her aid, and she answered, ‘I’ll tell you what, Esther, Marianne would have behaved much better, for she is older, and never fidgets, and she would not have been angry like me, and just going to kill the wasp.’ CHAPTER X COUSIN ROTHERWOOD ‘We care not who says And intends it dispraise, That an Angler to a fool is next neighbour.’ IN the evening Lord Rotherwood renewed his entreaties to Claude to join him on his travels. He was very much bent on taking him, for his own pleasure depended not a little on his cousin’s company. Claude lay on the glassy slope of the terrace, while Lord Rotherwood paced rapidly up and down before him, persuading him with all the allurements he could think of, and looking the picture of impatience. Lily sat by, adding her weight to all his arguments. But Claude was almost contemptuous to all the beauties of Germany, and all the promised sights; he scarcely gave himself the trouble to answer his tormentors, only vouchsafing sometimes to open his lips to say that he never meant to go to a country where people spoke a language that sounded like cracking walnuts; that he hated steamers; had no fancy for tumble-down castles; that it was so common to travel; there was more distinction in staying at home; that the field of Waterloo had been spoilt, and was not worth seeing; his ideas of glaciers would be ruined by the reality; and he did not care to see Cologne Cathedral till it was finished. On this Lily set up an outcry of horror. ‘One comfort is, Lily,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘he does not mean it; he did not say it from the bottom of his heart. Now, confess you did not, Claude.’ Claude pretended to be asleep. ‘I see plainly enough,’ said the Marquis to Lily, ‘it is as Wat Greenwood says, “Mr. Reynold and the grapes.”’