It was soon time to take leave, and as it was already twilight, Sinclair proposed that he should drive Patty home in the pony cart, and Mabel should return in the carriage.
Mabel quite agreed to this, saying that after her croquet, she did not care to drive. The road lay through a lovely bit of country, and Patty enjoyed the drive home with Sinclair. She always liked to talk with him, he was so gentle and kindly. While not so merry as Bob or as Tom Meredith, Sinclair was an interesting talker, and Patty always felt that she was benefited by his conversation.
He told her much about the country as they drove along, described the life and work of the villagers, and pointed out buildings or other objects of interest.
They passed several fine estates, whose towering mansions could be seen half hidden by trees, or boldly placed on a summit.
“But no place is as beautiful as Cromarty,” said Sinclair, and Patty entirely agreed with them.
“Is it true that you may have to leave it?” she asked, thinking it wiser to refer to it casually.
Sinclair frowned.
“Who’s been talking to you?” he said; “Mabel, I suppose. Well, yes, there is a chance that we’ll have to let it for a term of years. I hope not, but I can’t tell yet. But even if so, it will be only temporary. As soon as I get fairly established in my career, I hope to make money enough to take care of it all. A few years hence, when I’m on my feet, and Bob’s through college, it will be easier all round. But if some business troubles that are now impending don’t blow over, there’ll be no income to keep things going, and we’ll have to—to——But that shan’t happen!”
Sinclair spoke almost desperately, and Patty saw his fingers clench around the reins he was holding.
“I wonder,” said Patty slowly, for she was not quite sure how what she was about to say would be received. “I wonder, Sinclair, if we’re not good friends enough, you and I, for me to speak plainly to you.”