She did not raise her eyes; her whole demeanour had changed. She seemed
to droop as if all animation had gone; "I don't know," she said
listlessly. "I think I would almost as soon stay here."

"Have your tay, darlint!" coaxed Biddy, on her other side.

"Eustace will be coming to look for you if you don't," said Scott.

She started at that, and gave a quick shiver. "Oh no, I don't want
Eustace! Don't let him come here, Stumpy, will you?"

"Shall I go and tell him you are coming then?" asked Scott, his eyes
still steadily watching her.

She nodded. "Yes, yes. But I don't want to be made. Basil never made me
do things."

Scott rose. "I will wait for you downstairs. Thank you, Biddy. Yes, I'll
drink that first. No tea in the world ever tastes like your brew."

"Get along with your blarney, Master Scott!" protested Biddy. "And you
and Sir Eustace mustn't tire Miss Isabel out. Remember, she's just come a
long journey, and it's not wonderful at all that she don't feel like
exerting herself."

A red fire of resentment smouldered in the old woman's eyes, but Scott
paid no attention to it. "You'd better get some sleep yourself, Biddy, if
you can," he said. "No more, thanks. You will be out in an hour then,
Isabel?"