Snug arm-chairs were placed in every part of the
room. In one of them Sir Joseph reclined, fast asleep; in another, Miss
Lavinia sat knitting; a third chair, apart from the rest, near a round
table in one corner of the room, was occupied by Natalie. Her head was
resting on her hand, an unread book lay open on her lap. She looked pale
and harassed; anxiety and suspense had worn her down to the shadow of
her former self. On entering the room, Turlington purposely closed the
door with a bang. Natalie started. Miss Lavinia looked up reproachfully.
The object was achieved--Sir Joseph was roused from his sleep.
"If you are going to the vicar's to-night. Graybrooke," said Turlington,
"it's time you were off, isn't it?"
Sir Joseph rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock on the mantel-piece.
"Yes, yes, Richard," he answered, drowsily, "I suppose I must go. Where
is my hat?"
His sister and his daughter both joined in trying to persuade him to
send an excuse instead of groping his way to the vicarage in the dark.
Sir Joseph hesitated, as usual.
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