"I hope it wasn't; but it's no use telling me to do as I like, and then to object if I pick a flower. I shall pick them every day--several times a day. I shall always be picking them! I think I shall take the care of this house altogether, and do the watering and snip off the dead leaves. I love snipping! And I shall arrange the flowers on the table, too; they are very badly done--so stiff. Just like a man's taste!"

The two men smiled at each other, while Ruth protested quickly--

"No, you can't, Mollie. I'm the eldest, and I've 'barleyed' it already.

You can arrange the vases in the drawing-room, if you like."

"Thank you, ma'am!" said Mollie calmly. "Just as you like."

Judging from the fervour with which she had stated her intentions a moment earlier, the listeners expected that she would dispute her sister's mandate and hardly knew how to account for her unruffled composure. But, in truth, Mollie was already reflecting that flowers took a long time to arrange satisfactorily, and that it would be a bore to saddle herself with a regular duty. Much more fun to let Ruth do it, and criticise the results! She sniffed daintily at the heliotrope, turning her head from side to side to examine the possibilities of the conservatory.

"Well, anyway, I shall take this place in hand! It will make a lovely little snuggery, with rugs on the floor and basket-chairs everywhere about, and an odd table or two to hold books and work, and tea when we like to have it here. I'll have a blind to the door, too, so that we shan't be surprised if visitors are shown into the drawing-room. Is there a door of escape, by the way? I hate to be penned up where I can't run away to a place of safety." She peered inquiringly round the trunk of the palm, whereupon Victor Druce slid down from his perch, and walked to the further end of the floor.

"Yes, there's a door here. If you see anyone coming for whom you have a special aversion you can get out, and hide in the shrubbery. I promise not to tell. Perhaps I may come with you. I am not fond of afternoon calls."

"Don't encourage her, please, Mr Druce," said Ruth quickly. "Mollie talks a lot of nonsense which she doesn't mean; but if people are kind enough to come here to see us, she must not be so rude as to refuse to see them. I am sure Uncle Bernard would be very angry if we did not receive them properly."

But Mollie was obstinate this time, and refused to be put down.

"How do you know?" she asked rebelliously. "He might be very pleased with me for sharing his own retiring tastes! He said himself that he approved of what other people would consider a fault. Perhaps he likes unsociability. There's as much chance of that as anything else!"

Victor Druce came back from his tour of investigation, but instead of taking his former seat, leant up against the stem of a huge palm-tree, whose topmost leaves touched the gla.s.s roof, folded his arms and looked down at the two girls with an intent, curious scrutiny.

"It's an odd position," he said slowly, "a very odd position for us all to be plunged in at a moment's notice! None of us have any knowledge of Mr Farrell's tastes, so any attempts to please him must be entirely experimental. If we please him we may thank our good fortune; if we offend, we can, at least, feel innocent of any bad intentions. It's rather a disagreeable position, but I expect the poor old fellow shirks being left to himself any longer, though he would die rather than acknowledge it. It's dull work being left alone when one is ill.

Personally, it is extremely inconvenient for me to be away from home for three months, but I shall manage it somehow. One can't refuse a request from a man in his condition, and it would be a pleasure to cheer the poor old fellow a bit, even at the cost of one's own comfort."

There was silence for a moment after he had ceased speaking. Jack Melland stared at the ground, and swung his feet gently to and fro.

Ruth knitted her black brows, and Mollie looked puzzled and thoughtful.

It was a kind speech. She would have liked to admire it thoroughly, but--did it ring quite true? Was there not something unnatural in the avoidance of any reference by the speaker to his own possible gain?

"I'm afraid I didn't think much of Uncle Bernard; I was too busy thinking of myself. I want to have a good time!" she said bluntly.

"It's a lovely, lovely house, and the grounds are lovely, and the spring flowers are coming up, and we can live out of doors, and be as happy as the day is long. I am not going to worry my head about the money, or anything else. I'll be nice to Uncle Bernard in my own way, as nice as he will let me; but he said that we could enjoy ourselves, and I am going to take him at his word, and do every single thing I like. It's an opportunity which may never occur again, as the shop people say in their circulars, and it would be foolish not to make the most of it."

"I want the money!" said Ruth clearly. The pretty flush had faded from her cheeks, and she looked suddenly wan and white. The hands which were resting on her knee trembled visibly. She had evidently strung herself up to what she considered a necessary confession, and her eyes turned to one after another of her companions in wistful apology.

"I want it dreadfully! I have been poor all my life, and have longed to be rich, and I would rather live here, in this house, than anywhere else in the world. If we are going to live together and be friends we ought to be honest with each other from the beginning. It's selfish, but it's true! I want the money, and I mean to do every single thing in my power to get it."

"Bravo!" cried a man's voice suddenly. Mollie was frowning and biting her lips in obvious discomfort; Victor Druce's drooping lids once more hid his eyes from sight as he stood with folded arms leaning against the palm. It was Jack Melland who had spoken--Jack Melland, roused for once to display unqualified approval and enthusiasm. He bent forward on his seat, hands in his pockets, his tall, lithe figure swaying gently to and fro as he faced Ruth with his bright blue eyes.

"Bravo, Miss Farrell! I admire your honesty, and wish you good luck.

You are perfectly justified in doing all you can to gain your point, and I sincerely hope you may be successful. It is only right that a Farrell should inherit the Court, and if you were the old man's grand-daughter, you could not possibly be more like him."

Ruth flushed, but did not reply. Victor Druce's measured voice cut like a sword across the silence.

"You are unselfish, Melland! Are you quite sure that you share the honesty which you admire so much in Miss Farrell? Have you forgotten how the question affects yourself?"

Jack Melland jumped lightly to the ground and straightened his long back.

"Unselfish or not, it's the truth. The question does not affect me at all. I am not going to stay!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN EARLY DECISION.

"I am not going to stay," said Jack Melland; and whatever his faults might be, he looked and spoke like a man who knew his own mind, and would abide thereby.

His three companions stared at him in silence, and one of the three at least felt a distinct sinking of the heart.

"I was beginning to like him; we got on quite famously at dinner, and I thought we were going to have ever such a good time together. Now we shall be a wretched uncomfortable three, and Mr Druce will like Ruth best, and I shall be out in the cold. How horrid! How perfectly horrid!" grumbled Mollie to herself.

Just because she was so perturbed, however, she would not allow herself to speak, but put on an elaborate display of indifference, while Victor asked curiously--

"You mean that? May one ask your reason?"

"Oh, certainly. I never looked upon myself as having the slightest claim upon Mr Farrell, and I don't care to ruin my business prospects for the sake of an off-chance. Besides, the whole position is unpleasant; I object to being kept 'on approval,' with the consciousness that if I allow myself to be ordinarily agreeable I shall at once be credited with sponging for the old man's favour. I am quite satisfied with my own lot, without any outside a.s.sistance."

"Don't you care about money, then?" asked Ruth timidly.

Jack Melland threw back his head with an air of masterful complacency.

"I care about making money. That is to say, I love my work, and wish it to be successful, but I am keen on it more for the sake of the interest and occupation than for what it brings. A few hundreds a year supply all that I want, and I should not care to be burdened with a big fortune. If you come into this place, Miss Farrell, I shall be grateful to you if you will ask me down for a few days' shooting in the autumn, but I shall never envy you your responsibility. To kick my heels here in idleness for three solid months, and know that the business was suffering for want of my presence--nothing would induce me to do it!"

But at this Mollie found her tongue, indignation spurring her to speech.

"You are not very polite to the rest of us! I should not have thought it would be such a great hardship to stay in a lovely big house with three young companions, when summer was coming on, too! I should think there are one or two people in the world who would like it even a little better than poking in a stuffy office from morning until night. But there's no accounting for tastes. When you are grilling with heat in the City you can think of us sitting under the trees eating strawberries, and thank Fate you are so much better off. We promise not to send you any. It might remind you too painfully of the country!"

"Mollie!" cried Ruth in sharp reproof; but Jack laughed with good- natured amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Oh, I deserve it, Miss Farrell! My remarks sounded horribly discourteous. I a.s.sure you if I had the time to spare I should thoroughly enjoy staying on for a time under the present conditions; but as it is quite impossible to remain for three months, I might as well depart at once. I don't suppose Mr Farrell will wish to keep me under the circ.u.mstances."

It appeared, however, Jack Melland was wrong in his surmise, for when he announced his decision to his host before bidding him good-night, the old man looked at him coldly and replied--

"I thought I had explained that we would discuss objections at a later date. May I ask what limit you had mentally fixed to your visit when you did me the honour of accepting my invitation?"

"I hardly know--this is Monday. I thought, perhaps until Sat.u.r.day, or, at the longest, a week."

Mr Farrell waved his hand in dismissal.

"We will leave it for a week, then. On Monday morning next I will discuss the position as fully as you wish. Now, if either of you young gentlemen cares to smoke, the billiard-room is at your service. Please ring for anything you require. Meantime, as it is past my usual hour for retiring, I wish you a very good-night."

"Checkmate, old fellow!" cried Victor Druce, as the door closed behind the stooping figure; but Jack deigned no reply.

The cloud had returned to his forehead, his nostrils were curved with annoyance and thwarted self-will.

The cloud was still there when he came down to breakfast next morning, and did not lighten even at the sight of the well-appointed breakfast- table, and the two pretty girls who were seated thereat. Some meals may be more attractive abroad than at home. A French dinner, for example, has certain points above an English dinner; but we give way to none as regards our breakfast--that most delightful of meals to the strong and healthy, especially in springtime, when the sunshine pours in at the open window, and the scent of flowers mingles with the aroma of freshly made coffee.

The breakfast-table of the Court had all the attractions which one instinctively a.s.sociates with old country houses. The ma.s.sive, old- fashioned silver, the revolving stand in the centre, the plentiful display of covered dishes to supplement the cold viands on the sideboard; and, as Mr Farrell invariably remained in his own room until lunch-time, the restraint of his presence was removed.