Chapter 4 - Page 2

it. But as long as I cannot there is no use
pretending that I can. And then of course she feels
hurt, for she is very fond of him, and likes to read him
aloud in the evenings. She is reading a piece now 'Pippa
Passes,' and I assure you, Miss Walker, that I don't even
know what the title means. You must think me a dreadful
fool."

"But surely he is not so incomprehensible as all
that?" she said, as an attempt at encouragement.

"He is very bad. There are some things, you know,
which are fine. That ride of the three Dutchmen, and
Herve Riel and others, they are all right. But there was
a piece we read last week. The first line stumped my
aunt, and it takes a good deal to do that, for she rides
very straight. 'Setebos and Setebos and Setebos.' That
was the line."

"It sounds like a charm."

"No, it is a gentleman's name. Three gentlemen, I
thought, at first, but my aunt says one. Then he goes
on, 'Thinketh he dwelleth in the light of the moon.' It
was a very trying piece."

Clara Walker laughed again.

"You must not think of leaving your aunt," she said.
"Think how lonely she would be without you."

"Well, yes, I have thought of that. But you must
remember that my aunt is to all intents hardly
middle-aged, and a very eligible person. I don't think
that her dislike to mankind extends to individuals. She
might form new ties, and then I should be a third wheel
in the coach. It was all very well as long as I was only
a boy, when her first husband was alive."

"But, good gracious, you don't mean that Mrs.
Westmacott is going to marry again?" gasped Clara.

The young man glanced down at her with a question in
his eyes "Oh, it is only a remote, possibility, you
know," said he. "Still, of course, it might happen, and
I should like to know what I ought to turn my hand to."

"I wish I could help you," said Clara. "But I really
know very little about such things. However, I could
talk to my father, who knows a very great deal of the
world."

"I wish you would. I should be so glad if you
would."

"Then I certainly will. And now I must say
good-night, Mr. Westmacott, for papa will be wondering
where I am."

"Good night, Miss Walker." He pulled off his flannel
cap, and stalked away through the gathering darkness.

Clara had imagined that they had been the last on the
lawn, but, looking back from the steps which led up to
the French windows, she saw two dark figures moving
across towards the house. As they came nearer she could
distinguish that they were Harold Denver and her sister
Ida. The murmur of their voices rose up to her ears, and
then the musical little child-like laugh which she