And then there was the dinner in the evening, which was not so pleasant to think of as the dinner to which the brother and sister had been invited at Thorne. There were only three gentlemen--the Rector, and the Doctor, and Mr. Fazakerley--all twice as old as Edgar, and all patronising and explanatory. They knew his affairs so much better than he did, that it was not wonderful if they alarmed him. So long as Clare sat at the other end of the table her brother did not mind, for she was used to them, and used to having her own way with them; but Edgar felt it would be hard upon him when he was left to their tender mercies. He was very anxious to detain Clare, so as to shorten the awful hour after dinner. “Why should you go away?” he said, “wait till we are all ready. Are we such bears in England that ladies can’t stay with us for an hour? We don’t mean to smoke; that is the only thing that need send you away.” “Smoke!” said Mr. Fielding, with horror. “Edgar, I hope you don’t mean to introduce these new-fangled foreign ways. I shall have to retire with the ladies if you do. I detest smoke, except in the open air.” “That is one of his old-fashioned notions,” said Dr. Somers, “but you must have a smoking-room fitted up: then the ladies can’t object. The old Squire resisted such an innovation. He was of the antique school, like Fielding here, and hated everything that was new.” “Just the reverse of our young friend,” said Mr. Fazakerley. “I and Tom Perfitt have been giving him a great many ideas to-day. You will find Tom a very satisfactory fellow, I am sure. He is broad Scotch, and he is fond of having his own way, but he knows every inch of the land, and what is best for it. If you do any amateur farming you could not have a better man. If that sort of thing ever was anything but ruinous, Tom is the man to make it pay.” “I must take a little time to think what I am going to do,” said Edgar, “and to make acquaintance with the place. You forget that I don’t know Arden, though you all do. Clare, why should you go away?” “I am going to make you some tea,” said Clare, with a smile, as she went away. And she took no notice of his appealing look. She was half vexed, indeed, that he should have suggested such an innovation. It was a bad symptom for the time to come. Why should not Edgar be content, as everybody else was, with the usual customs of society? She was annoyed that he should show his foreign breeding even before his old friends. It seemed to her that Dr. Somers’ keen eye launched a gleam of mockery at her as she went out. They would laugh at him, even these old gentlemen; and of course other people would laugh still more.