"I thought we were to ride," said Nellie disappointedly.
"Well, won't you come?"
"Don't be absurd!"
"Mightn't she come, Phil?"
"Mrs. Delane has not called, has she?" inquired Philip, as though for information.
"Of course I shan't go, Dale. You must go alone."
"What a nuisance! I shall have to walk. I daren't trust myself to that animal alone."
After luncheon he started, walking by the same way by which Mr. Delane had come.
He reached the lodge of the Grange; a courtesying child held open the gate, and he passed along under the immemorial elms, returning a cheery good-day to the gardeners, who paused in their work to touch their hats with friendly deference. The deference was wrong, of course, but the friendliness pleased him, and even the deference seemed somehow in keeping with the elms and with the sturdy old red-brick mansion, with its coat of arms and defiant Norman motto over the principal door. Littlehill was a pleasant house, but it had none of the ancient dignity of Dirkham, and Dale's quick brain was suddenly struck with a new understanding of how such places bred the men they did. He had had a fancy for a stay in the country; it would amuse him, he thought, to study country life; that was the meaning of his coming to Littlehill. Well, Dirkham summed up one side of country life, and he would be glad to study it.