"Oliver, my dear," she said again, "don't mouth like that! It is all perfectly right. I am going to manage this."
Percy saw a venomous look directed at him by the man; the girl saw it too, moving her strong humorous eyes from one to the other. She put her hand on his knee.
"Oliver, attend! Don't look at this gentleman so bitterly. He has done no harm."
"No harm!" whispered the other.
"No—no harm in the world. What does it matter what that poor dear upstairs thinks? Now, sir, would you mind telling us why you came here?"
Percy drew another breath. He had not expected this line.
"I came here to receive Mrs. Brand back into the Church," he said.
"And you have done so?"
"I have done so."
"Would you mind telling us your name? It makes it so much more convenient."
Percy hesitated. Then he determined to meet her on her own ground.
"Certainly. My name is Franklin."
"Father Franklin?" asked the girl, with just the faintest tinge of mocking emphasis on the first word.
"Yes. Father Percy Franklin, from Archbishop's House, Westminster," said the priest steadily.
"Well, then, Father Percy Franklin; can you tell us why you came here? I mean, who sent for you?"
"Mrs. Brand sent for me."
"Yes, but by what means?"
"That I must not say."
