Austin stayed behind. He did not offer to accompany her, but she was accustomed to that now. She went home wondering what kind of intercourse there was between mother and daughter.
"I don't know which I pity most," she said to herself. "The girl wants more gaiety in her, the mother less. But I like the looks of Gavine, and hope I shall see something of her."
There was no skating the next day. A sudden thaw set in. Sidney did not see either of the girls for some time, as her father was in bed with a slight attack of bronchitis, and she hardly left the house. The Major was in very low spirits as he watched Mrs. Norman riding off to the meets with Austin. He shut himself up in his workshop, and growled at everyone who came near him.
Gavine and Jockie took long walks together every afternoon. One day Gavine's face was unusually grave.
"Jockie, dear, I must go back to the aunts. I can't stay here."
"Why?" Jockie's horrified face made Gavine smile.
"I don't think mother wants me."
"She never has," said Jockie indignantly; "but I want you. Have you had a row? You needn't mind telling me."
"Oh, it never comes to that. Mother never loses her temper, you know. I sometimes wish she did. But I annoy her. I blurt out truths which are best not expressed, and I can't understand what I'm expected to say, and what I am not. Major Urquhart came yesterday, and mother asked him to tea to-day, as there was no meet anywhere. Mr. de Cressiers happened to come in this morning, and wanted us to go motoring with him this afternoon. Mother accepted, and, thinking she had forgotten, I said quickly: 'Oh, we can't do that, can we, mother? You asked Major Urquhart to tea to-day, and you asked him to come early, for you had not seen him for such a long time.'
"Now why should that speech of mine be such a crime? Mother carried it off all right at the time, but she was most annoyed with me afterwards. She told me I was like an awkward child, had no manners, and she really thought I was better in my 'northern wilds' than in decent society. I honestly think I am. I hate the chitter-chatter of society. It leads to nothing, and I am living a lazy idle life here. It doesn't suit me. I have been accustomed to attend to my two aunts, and do some sick-nursing. There is nothing to do here, and Jockie, dear—it is not her fault. We have lived our lives apart since I was four years old, but mother has no more affection or feeling for me than that stone.'"