This estrangement was a disappointment to his people.
“Have you noticed, my dear, that Roland’s hardly been round to the Curtises’ at all these holidays?” Mr. Whately said to his wife one evening. “I hope there has not been a row or anything. I rather wish you’d try and find out.”
And so next day Mrs. Whately made a guarded remark to her son about April’s appearance: “What a big girl she’s getting. And she’s prettier every day. If you’re not careful you’ll have all the boys in the place running after her and cutting you out.”
Roland answered in an off-hand manner, “They can for all I care, mother.”
“Oh, but, Roland, you shouldn’t say that; I thought you were getting on so well together last holidays. We were even saying——”
But Roland never allowed himself to be forced into a confidence.
“Oh, please, mother, don’t. There was nothing in it; really, there wasn’t.”
“You haven’t had a row, have you, Roland?”
“Of course not, mother. What should we have a row about?”
“I don’t know, dear. I only thought——”