The impending birthday festivities at Maxfield were a topic of interest
to others than merely the residents at the manor-house. There, indeed,
the prospect was considerably damped by the failing health of Mrs
Ingleton and the absence of Rosalind from the scene of action. The
burden of the arrangements fell upon the tutor, who only half relished
the duties of _major domo_, and heartily wished the uncomfortable date
was past. Mrs Ingleton, however, ill as she was, was intent on
celebrating the occasion in a manner becoming the hospitable traditions
of the house of which her son was now the head, and accordingly, a large
party of the neighbouring gentry was invited for the occasion.
Among the uninvited guests one individual was anticipating the event
with considerable interest. This was Robert Ratman, Esquire, as he
lounged comfortably on a sofa at the "Grand Hotel" in London, and
perused a letter which had just reached him by the post.
"I shall have to get you to take another bill in place of the one I gave
you, due on the 26th. The fact is, I forgot that was the day of my
ward's twentieth birthday, when there are to be celebrations at
Maxfield," ("What on earth has that to do with it?" grunted the reader).
"If you will take my advice you will postpone your return here till
after that date. In any case, please understand I am unable to attend
to money matters at present. It may interest you to know that the tutor
is under notice to leave," (here the reader uttered a not very
complimentary expletive), "also that I am on the best of terms with the
fair widow.
"E.O."
"Thinks I'm a fool, does he?" grunted Mr Ratman; "I shall have to
undeceive him there."