"We had a general intelligence examination at school this week.

Stupid old things! One question was, 'What is the complementary colour to red?' I had never heard of a complementary colour in my life, and I was just racking my brains to think what to say, when my eyes happened to light on Miss Smith's carrots. 'Ah, ha,' thinks I, 'I have it!' So I put down 'auburn,' and was jolly well pleased with myself until lunch-time came, when I was telling Gladys my answers, and Miss Bateson heard me, and went into perfect fits! It seems complementary means something idiotic about two colours making a white light--as if they ever could! Anyway, I think my answer was very pretty and tactful--don't you? and I hope it will soften Smithy's hard heart.

"Another silly question was, 'Order a dinner for a cla.s.s of twelve Board-school children, and state what quant.i.ties of each article are required.' One girl ordered a pound of roast beef and a pound of potatoes for each child, and ten and a half yards of Swiss-roll for the whole cla.s.s! I ordered the 'scrag-end of the neck.' Haven't the least idea what it means, but I thought it sounded cheap. I likewise gave them suet dumplings for pudding. Hope they liked them!

"Is Mr Melland's ankle getting better? Have you had any more callers, invitations, rides, excursions, or excitements generally?

Please answer my questions next time, and don't ignore them, as you generally do. Drummond had a fine adventure yesterday. Another small boy dared him to stick his head between our railings, and he did, but it wouldn't come out! He pushed, and the small boy pulled, and a crowd collected right across the pavement, making kind suggestions, and commenting on the size of his ears. Whenever he tried to get back, the railings caught them, and they stuck out like sails.

Finally his pride gave way, and he howled, and a friendly policeman coming along, poked the rails apart with a stick, or did something or other, and out he came with a rush. He looked very crushed in every sense all the evening, so we hope it may be a lesson to him.

"The next-door girls have new hats--mustard straw, draped with green, and roses under the brim. It seems so sad to reflect that the poor dears probably imagine they look quite nice!

"How is the Ogre? Does he still live in his den, and growl when you appear? I should be very glad he did shut himself up, when he is so cross and disagreeable!

"Well, ta-ta, my darlings! I miss you at home, but I can't say I pine for your return, for it's quite pleasant to be Number One for a change, and boss Attica and the Muz. Take care of yourselves, behave prettily, and don't forget the hair-ribbons.--Your loving Trix."

"Wild child!" said Ruth, smiling. "She does write the most absurd letters! Better tear that up at once, Mollie, or burn it when you get into the house. You have such a trick of leaving things about, and it isn't safe. Uncle Bernard might--"

She started violently, and Mollie jumped to her feet as a harsh voice interrupted the sentence--

"Uncle Bernard has already had the pleasure of hearing the way in which a member of your family writes of him to a visitor in his own house.

Ideas of loyalty seem to have altered since my young days, when it was considered a breach of decent feeling to eat a man's salt and speak slightingly of him behind his back!"

Ruth sat silent, crimson to the roots of her hair; Mollie shuffled miserably from one foot to another, but did not shrink from the old man's angry gaze.

"But how did you hear, Uncle Bernard? Have you been sitting behind this open window, listening to us all the while we have been talking? I don't think it is quite fair to do that."

"Don't you, indeed! I happened to be reading in my armchair, when you came and planted your chairs immediately outside. I was the first- comer, you observe, not yourselves, and I cannot say I was interested enough to listen to your conversation until my attention was attracted by the description of myself. I presume the very descriptive t.i.tle was originally your invention?"

He planted his stick on the ground, and stared fixedly in Mollie's face.

The grey eyes fell before his, and she answered hesitatingly--

"I'm--I'm afraid it was."

"And do you think it was good manners to write in such a way of your host?"

"No, I don't; I think it was hateful. But--"

"But?"

Mollie took a step forward, and laid a timid hand on his arm.

"But, in a sort of way, it is true. You shut yourself up, and you do growl, and even when you are kind, you pretend to be cross. We have tried and tried to be friends with you, but you won't let us. We have said over and over again that we felt as if we were living in an hotel, and it has been a trouble to us all. I don't wonder you feel angry; but don't you think you are a wee bit in the wrong yourself?"

Mr Farrell stared down at the eager face, the wide grey eyes, the little hand upon his arm, then deliberately drew himself away, saying coldly--

"You would make a good lawyer, my dear. You have a clever trick of evading an awkward question, and shifting the blame from your own shoulders. You will excuse me if I say that I can scarcely consent to discuss my own conduct with a girl of your years. The point I mentioned was your own conduct in writing disrespectfully of your host."

"I know, and I've said already that it was horrid; but it was not so horrid as you think. Trix is my sister, and we all have a habit of exaggerating and using stronger terms than we really mean. We have a habit of giving nicknames, too. They are not complimentary as a rule, but we don't mean to be unkind. If you read some of Trix's other letters, you would see that we have not been altogether ungrateful.

Will you read them? I have them all upstairs, and could bring them down in a moment."

"You are very good. Judging from the specimen I have heard, I think I would rather decline the honour."

"Yes; but you ought not to decline! It isn't a question of enjoyment; it's a question of justice to Ruth and to me. You accuse us of being disloyal and ungrateful, so it's only fair you should hear our defence.

I will bring down the letters, and you can read them at your leisure.

They may bore you a little, but you will see that we are not so bad as you think, and that we have not always been uncomplimentary."

She walked hastily towards the house, leaving Ruth and the old man alone. He stood leaning on his stick, staring fixedly at her with his sunken eyes; but her head remained persistently drooped, the dark lashes lying on the flushed cheeks.

In the tension of that silence she could hear the beating of her own heart, and her ears strained nervously for the sound of returning footsteps. She had not long to wait. With a clatter, Mollie came scrambling out of the library window, the letters in her hand.

"There's our defence! Please read them before you scold us any more."

Mr Farrell took the letters, thrust them into his pocket, then stood silently, as if waiting for something more.

Mollie stared at him curiously, but he paid no attention to her; his gaze was fixed on Ruth's bent figure and downcast face. At length, surprised at the prolonged silence, she lifted her eyes with a frightened glance, and immediately Uncle Bernard broke into speech.

"Yes, I was waiting for you! Have you nothing to say on your own account?" he demanded sternly. "You seem content to sit silently and let your sister fight your battles. Is it because you are innocent of having offended in the same way yourself?"

Ruth's cheeks flushed to an even deeper rose.

"I," she stammered--"I--I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"

Mr Farrell turned to re-enter the house.

"Ah," he said coldly," so it was cowardice, after all! I understand.

It is an interesting discovery!"

CHAPTER TWENTY.

RECEIVING AND PAYING CALLS.

Two days later Mr Farrell returned Trix's letters with a brief "Thank you!" which Mollie had enough tact to receive without remark. She was not conscious of having gained in the old man's graces, though Ruth was sadly conscious of having fallen from favour. Victor was evidently for the time being the _persona grata_, his remarks being received with attention, and his wishes carefully carried out.

Mollie confessed to herself that Victor's manners were perfect where his host was concerned, and wondered why it was that she found herself constantly suspecting his motives. What if he were playing a part to win the old man's favour? Was it not the unhappy feature of the situation that they were all, more or less, doing the same thing?

Meantime, callers arrived daily. Stout, middle-aged matrons, with pompous manners; thin matrons, precise and formal of speech; tall elegants, with flowing robes and Parisian millinery; sporting-looking women, with short skirts and motor-caps. One after another they drove up to the door and sat for a few moments in the drawing-room, going through the same stereotyped conversation: "How pleasant to have the Court opened once more! How do you like Raby? How delightful to have such delightful summer-like weather!" Then they drank a cup of tea, nibbled a piece of cake, and said: "_Good_-afternoon! _So_ pleased to have met you! We shall hope to see you again _very_ soon!"

Occasionally the matron brought a daughter in her train, and still more occasionally a shy, depressed-looking husband; but at the best of times the calls were not cheerful occasions, and Ruth and Mollie looked forward with little pleasure to paying their return visits.

"Though it must at least be more interesting than receiving at home, for we shall see other people's houses, and the way they arrange their drawing-rooms. I do love studying strange drawing-rooms!" said Ruth meditatively. "In country houses they ought to be charming--all chintzy and smelling of pot-pourri! All the same, Mollie, I'm disappointed in the neighbours. They aren't a bit thrilling, as we expected."

"People generally seem uninteresting at first. They may turn out to be perfect darlings, when we know them better. I dare say they drove away saying the same thing of us, for we behaved like a couple of marionettes, sitting dressed up in our best, saying, 'Yes, indeed!'

'No, indeed!' 'Very much, indeed!' 'Thank you so much!' as if we were wound up by machinery. We must really launch out, and say something a trifle more original!"

It was quite an exciting occasion when the girls set out on their first calling expedition. It was an ideal May afternoon, and the prospect of driving over the countryside in an open carriage, behind two prancing horses, was in itself a delight.

Victor was to make one of the party, but Jack refused contemptuously to accompany them if only for the drive, declaring that even a sprained ankle had its silver lining if it let him off so boring a function. He was sitting in the hall, waiting to cheer--or more strictly speaking, to jeer--the departure, when Ruth came downstairs b.u.t.toning her gloves, and, to her surprise, Mr Farrell was also present.