"Who are the boys?"
"Oh, the lads in our village and the country around, Reggie Ford, Bertie Sargent, brothers of my girl friends. You'll see them."
Anita wondered if any of these might be a person of special interest to Lillian. It was too early for confidences as yet, but she expected they would come. She watched Lillian walking ahead with a swinging stride and a set of shoulders like a boy, so unlike the very feminine girls in Spain, Amparo, Rosario, Conchita and others she had met. There was a breeziness about Lillian as if she spent much time out of doors, and did athletic things. Anita imagined she must play tennis well, and that she was a good comrade to boys, but there could be nothing of the coquette about her, she fancied. She found her original, whimsical, and not a little puzzling. It would not be at once that she revealed herself to a stranger, even though that stranger be her cousin.
After Spain's gorgeously imposing cathedrals that of Chichester fell short of Anita's expectations, though she confessed, after a time, that it possessed a beauty and interest of its own, and that she could learn to feel at home within its walls, a thing she could never do in Spain's grander temples.
They were coming out when they encountered a portly, smiling, pink-faced individual in clerical dress who seized upon Mrs. Beltrán with an exclamation of pleasure. "Well, Katharine, here you are. They told me I should probably find you here. And this is the daughter." He took one of Anita's hands in both of his. "Doesn't look like you, not a bit. Ah, Miss Lillian, I overlooked you, so busy with these new arrivals, you see. How is the grandmother? Tell her I have a new proof against her arguments on the war question, and that I am coming over to have it out with her. Where were you all going? May I come along?"
And this it seemed was Ernest Kirkby. Such a different figure from that which Anita had pictured to herself. That had been a pale, serious, priestly person who spoke in melancholy tones and with a sanctimonious expression. This confident, unabashed, agreeable individual was quite outside any of her imaginings. He had come over immediately upon receiving Mrs. Beltrán's note, he told them. He wanted to hear the whole story at once. What was he to do? Was there anything to be attended to on the spot?
"Suppose I go back to your lodgings with you, Katharine," he proposed, "and let these young folks do their sightseeing together. You've seen all there is of Chichester, saw it years ago. Come along and tell me the whole story so there'll be no delay."
So off he set with Mrs. Beltrán, talking earnestly and leaving Anita to Lillian's company.
"You know Mr. Kirkby very well, don't you?" inquired Anita as they started off to view the Market Cross.
"Oh, dear, yes. We've known him all our lives. He was a great friend of your grandmother, as well as of mine. He is a perfect old dear. Everybody loves him. He has a darling house and a nice motherly housekeeper. He has never married on account of his invalid sister they say, but Granny hints at another reason."