"It was very sweet of you; and I believe it to be so. Everything seemed to go on right this morning. There are days like that. You don't think that Dad and Uncle Bill have really quarrelled, do you? Of course I know the garden was to be made, and it seems odd that it should have been left off like that."
"Yes, it is odd. I don't like to think of their having a row. It would be very unlike them. Still, according to Coombe—"
"What, according to Coombe? If he said what you say he did about Dad, you ought to have shut him up."
"I did, as a matter of fact. But there must be something in it."
"I think we'd better wait and see what there is. If there's anything at all, it will blow over. I suppose you can't expect them always to agree about everything, and Uncle Bill is so much away, and so busy, that he might not always think enough of Dad's point of view, who is always here."
"It might be something of that sort. Anyhow, we needn't take sides."
"Oh, I should, if there was really a quarrel. I adore Uncle Bill, but if it was a question between him and Dad I should take Dad's side through thick and thin. And I should expect you to take Uncle Bill's. So I expect we should quarrel worse than they would."
He laughed lightly. "Not much fear of our quarrelling," he said. "I say, Pam, have you seen Sunny Jim lately? I'm told that he is in residence at Pershore Castle, the seat of his father, the Earl of Crowborough, and a dull dog at that."
"Yes, he has been over here once or twice. I should think he might quite possibly come over this afternoon. Do you want to see him?"
"I don't know that I particularly want to; but I shall, no doubt. How is his affair progressing?"