Again Audrey was forming a hasty judgment.

'The country is not very pretty, is it?' asked Cyril at this moment, and she woke up from her reverie.

'It is a little flat, but it has its good points; it is a splendid hunting country, as you know. Oh yes, I think it pretty. There are nice walks. I am very partial to the gra.s.s lanes we have about here. In fine weather they are delicious.'

'And you are a good walker?'

'Oh yes. I am strong, and there is nothing I enjoy so much. One is such splendid company for one's self. Leo and I used to have such expeditions! Leo was a St. Bernard puppy, only he died three weeks ago of distemper. I cannot bear to speak of him yet. He was my playfellow, and so handsome and intelligent! My cousin, Captain Burnett, has promised to find me another dog. He has a Dachs-hund himself--such a loving, faithful little creature. He is obliged to take Booty wherever he goes, or the poor thing would fret himself to skin and bone. Is that retriever your special property?' and Audrey looked at Cyril as she spoke.

'No; he belongs to Kester,' he returned carelessly. Then, with a quick change of tone: 'Are you tired, old fellow? Would you like me to help you indoors?' and, as Kester languidly a.s.sented, he picked up his crutches, and taking possession of one, subst.i.tuted his arm, while Mollie ran before them with a couple of cushions.

Mrs. Blake looked after them, and a cloud came over her face.

'Is it not sad?' she said, in a melancholy tone. 'That poor boy--he will be a drag on Cyril all his life. He will never be able to gain his own living. He is fifteen now.'

'It was the result of an accident, was it not?'

But Audrey regretted her abrupt question, as a troubled expression came into the mother's eyes.

'Who told you that?' she asked impatiently. 'Of course it was Mollie.

She is a sad chatterbox. And I suppose she mentioned, too, that it was Cyril's fault?'

'Indeed it was not Mollie,' returned Audrey eagerly. 'Kester spoke of it himself. He did not enter into particulars. He just said his brother had let him fall when he was a child.'

'Yes, it was a sad business,' with a sigh. 'I wonder if anyone has ever had so many troubles as I have. Life has been one long struggle to me, Miss Ross. But for Cyril I should have succ.u.mbed again and again. No widowed mother has ever been more blessed in a son;' then, dropping her voice: 'Please do not mention the subject before Cyril; he is dreadfully sore about it. It was a pure accident: they were all lads together, and he and his schoolfellows were racing each other. I think they were steeplechasing, and he had Kester on his back. There was a fence and a stony ditch, and the foolish child tried to clear it; they might both have been killed, it was such a nasty place, but Kester was the only one hurt. He was always a delicate little fellow, and hip-disease came on. He does not suffer so much now, but he will always be a cripple, and he has bad times now and then. Cyril is so good to him; he has never forgiven himself for the accident.'

'I can understand that,' returned Audrey in a moved voice; and then Cyril came back and she rose to go. 'I shall see you again,' she said smiling, as he accompanied her to the gate. 'I hear my father has asked you up to Woodcote this evening to meet the Harcourts.'

'Yes,' he returned briefly, looking as though the prospect were a formidable one. 'I could not very well refuse Dr. Ross under the circ.u.mstances.'

'Did you wish to refuse?' rather mischievously.

'No, of course not,' but smiling too; 'I feel as though it were a neglect of duty. Look at the muddle in there! and those poor children. I have been working like a horse to-day, but there was too much to do upstairs; I left the living-rooms for this evening.'

'You can work all the harder to-morrow.'

He shook his head.

'To-morrow I have to begin lessons. I suppose the muddle must just go on, and we must live as we can. Biddy is old and worn out, and Mollie is too young to direct her.'

'I will come round and help her,' was Audrey's impulsive answer. 'This is just the sort of thing I love. I do so enjoy putting a place to rights.'

'But, Miss Ross, we have no right to trespa.s.s on your kindness,' replied Cyril, flushing slightly as he spoke.

But Audrey only smiled and showed her dimple.

'Tell Mollie I shall come,' was her only answer. '_Au revoir_, Mr.

Blake.'

And Audrey walked on rapidly to Woodcote, feeling that she had spent a very amusing afternoon, and quite unaware of the commotion she would raise in her mother's and sister's b.r.e.a.s.t.s by those few innocently spoken words, 'I have been having tea at the Blakes'.'

CHAPTER IV

MICHAEL

'And when G.o.d found in the hollow of His hand This ball of Earth among His other b.a.l.l.s, And set it in His shining firmament, Between the greater and the lesser lights, He chose it for the Star of Suffering.'

UGO Ba.s.sI.

It is better to draw a veil over the scene that followed Audrey's abrupt announcement. As Captain Burnett said afterwards, 'Geraldine's att.i.tude was superb; she was grand, absolutely grand.'

Mrs. Ross was, as usual, a little plaintive.

'If you had only mentioned where you were going, Audrey,' she said quietly; 'but you are so impulsive, my dear. Geraldine would have accompanied you with pleasure a little later, and you could have left my card, and a civil message for Mrs. Blake; that would have been far nicer, would it not, my love?' with an appealing look at her young adviser.

'You can send the message by Mr. Blake this evening,' replied Audrey.

She never argued with her mother if she could possibly help it. In the first place, it was not filial, and in the second, it was perfectly useless, as there was always a mental reservation in Mrs. Ross's mind, and she could seldom be induced to decide any question without reference to Geraldine.

'I think father might have consulted Percival before he asked another guest,' observed Mrs. Harcourt in rather a dubious tone, for she was exceedingly jealous of her husband's dignity. 'Percival was told that we were to be quite alone. I was not going home to change my dress. But if this young man be invited----'

'My darling,' interrupted her mother, 'you must not think of walking back all that way--that gown is lovely, is it not, Audrey?--and one more person does not signify. No doubt your father was anxious that Percival should see Mr. Blake and give him his opinion; he thinks so much of Percival's judgment, does he not, Audrey?'

Now here was the opportunity for a douceur, for a nicely-adjusted compliment, to smooth her sister's ruffled brow; but Audrey was far too blunt and truthful for such finesse.

'Father told me that he wanted Michael to see Mr. Blake--I don't believe he was thinking of Percival--because of course the lower school has nothing to do with Hillside. There is not the least need of changing your gown, Gage, for of course we are only a family party. Will you come up with me to my room now, or will you go with mother presently?'

'I will come with you,' returned Mrs. Harcourt.

Audrey was inclined to be contumacious, but she would not yield the matter so meekly. Audrey was always more contradictory when Michael was in the background; they seemed to play into each other's hand somehow, and more than once Geraldine was positive she had heard a softly-uttered 'Bravo!' at some of Audrey's ridiculous speeches.

'Come along, then,' returned Audrey good-humouredly; and as they left the room together, Captain Burnett laid down his book.

'I am afraid she is going to catch it, Cousin Emmeline; it will be a case of survival of the fittest--Geraldine is strong, but Audrey can hold her own. I back Audrey.'

'My dear,' remonstrated Mrs. Ross, as she put away her knitting, 'you talk as though my girls were likely to quarrel. Geraldine is far too sweet-tempered to quarrel with anyone; she will only give Audrey a little advice--dear Audrey is dreadfully careless, she takes after her father in that; John is always doing imprudent things. Geraldine has made me most uncomfortable this afternoon; I am quite sure that Mrs.

Blake will be an undesirable friend for Audrey.'

'Do you always see through other people's spectacles?' he asked quietly.

'I have a habit of judging things for myself--I never take anything second-hand; it is such an unpleasant idea, airing other people's opinions. Fancy a sensible human being turning himself into a sort of peg or receptacle for other folks' theories! No, thank you, my dear cousin; my opinions are all stamped with "Michael Burnett, his mark."'

'Men are different,' she replied tranquilly; and then she left him to go in search of her husband.

'What a world we live in, Booty!' observed Captain Burnett, as he walked to the window and his four-footed favourite followed him. 'Oh, you want a run, do you?' as the little animal looked at him wistfully. 'You think your master uncommonly lazy this afternoon--you don't happen to have a pain in your leg, do you, old fellow--a nasty gnawing, grumbling sort of pain?--there is nothing like neuralgia for making a man lazy. Well, I'll make an effort to oblige you, my friend--so off you go'; and Captain Burnett threw a stone, and there was a delighted bark and an excited patter of the short legs, and Booty vanished round a corner, while his master followed him more slowly.