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, and talk to her there about all your business-affairs, and I’ll take you for a drive.  Come along.  And of course I want somebody with me:  will you come, Mrs. Rosewarne, or will Mabyn?  You can’t?—­then Mabyn must.  Go along, Mabyn, and put your best hat on, and make yourself uncommonly smart, and you shall be allowed to sit next the driver—­that’s me.”

And indeed he bundled the whole of them about until they were seated in the wagonette just as he had indicated; and away they went from the inn-door.

“And you think you are coming back in half an hour?” he said to his companion, who was much pleased and very proud to occupy such a place.  “Oh no, you’re not.  You’re a young and simple thing, Mabyn.  These two behind us will go on talking now for any time about yards of calico and crochet-needles and twopenny subscriptions, while you and I, don’t you see, are quietly driving them over to Tintagel—­”

“Oh, Mr. Trelyon!” said Mabyn.

“You keep quiet.  That isn’t the half of what’s going to befall you.  I shall put up the horses at the inn, and I shall take you all down to the beach for a scramble to improve your appetite; and at the said inn you shall have luncheon with me, if you’re all very good and behave yourselves.  Then we shall drive back just when we particularly please.  Do you like the picture?”