Yes, something had happened, and her father and mother would talk it over together. And very soon it would all be put right. Uncle William and Auntie Eleanor were also probably talking it over, and she would certainly bring him to the right frame of mind. He was such a good sport, though without the essential wisdom that showed up so plainly in her father. He must have been in the wrong; but he was so generous and so affectionate that it would not take him long to see it and to say so.
As for Norman, his uncle's greeting had removed his discomfort entirely. The best of friends were apt to fall out occasionally, and if that had happened between his father and his uncle, it was nothing to worry about. He dismissed them from his mind as he sped down the drive, until he had to slow up for that part of the road which was under repair, when it occurred to him that this was probably what the row was about. The workmen who had been engaged for work at the Grange had been snooped for work at the Hall. Really, that was rather thick! There was no doubt that Uncle Edmund had an arbitrary way with him; but he was a thoroughly good old sort, all the same. Norman had many kindnesses to remember from him, from his early boyhood, when country pursuits had not come to him so readily as they did now, and during his visits to the Hall it had always been thoughtfully arranged that he should have all possible opportunities for enjoying himself.
He did not accelerate to his former pace when he had passed over the loose stones but leant back in his seat and crawled along, so as to give himself up to the romance of the summer night, and all the moving thoughts that his surrender to it would bring him. The young moon had not long since risen, and bathed the undulating spaces of the park in a soft, silvery sheen. The night coolness after the heat of the day brought sweet, sharp scents to his nostrils. The still beauty of the night seemed to be inviting him to something more than a solitary appreciation of it. He wished he had suggested that they should go for a longer drive. He and Pam both loved the beauty of the earth, and would have expressed their love for this sweet aspect of it to one another, heightening their own appreciations, as they did with every new discovery they made about truth and beauty. Pam was a girl in a thousand. His thoughts dwelt upon her, though he had thought of inviting them to the contemplation of another figure. As an only child he was lucky to have these girl cousins at the Hall, in place of sisters, and especially Pam, whom he had loved since she was a tiny child, Pam, who had grown up to take so many of her ideas and opinions from him, as a girl should, with one much older, who had seen more of the world than she had. Pam was grown up now; sometimes she expressed ideas of her own, and was inclined to assert them, as she had not been wont to do. That made her more interesting, for he would not have had her a mere echo of himself; and he knew that, for all her little charming airs of independence, she still looked up to him and admired him, which was right too, for although there were many better fellows than himself, he had taught her to accept the right pattern. Pam would be throwing herself away if she chose from another one. He was glad that the danger from Horsham's incipient suit seemed to be over. It was odd that he should be coming to prefer Judith, who, in spite of her beauty, had none of the bright charm and cleverness of dear Pam; but Horsham certainly wasn't good enough for her, though he would do very well for Judith. As for that outsider, Fred Comfrey...!
Norman accelerated here, and did not slow down again until he had reached the elaborate iron gates which gave access to the Grange. He had had the idea of a long moonlight drive by himself, with his thoughts to keep him company, but changed his mind now, and went in.
As he entered the brightly lit hall, the remembrance of the occurrences of half an hour before returned to him. He hadn't seen his father yet, who would probably be in his room, for he never went to bed early. He would go in and find out all about it.
[CHAPTER XVI]
CRISIS
Mrs. Eldridge was waiting for her husband in his room, where he usually sat for an hour or so after she had gone to bed. The lamps were lit and the curtains drawn. She was standing by the fireplace, and still wore her cloak over her evening gown. She looked amazingly young for her years as she stood there in her graceful evening guise, with an expression of almost childish alarm in her eyes, looking up at him expectantly.