Nettie had come back from London at Christmas, and nothing more had been heard of Dick Seyton, who was then absent from home; but the recollection of that episode prompted Mrs Lester to give a ready consent to Judge Cheriton’s proposal that she should go at Easter to school for a year. Bob, too, who had been taken away from school at Christmas, where his career had not lately been satisfactory, was at present reading with a clergyman at Hazelby, and was to be sent to a tutor by-and-by. In the meantime, both he and Nettie were as unhappy as young creatures can be when their world is all changed for them; with their hearts yearning towards what they already called old times. And all the force of their natures concentrated into a sort of fierce, aggressive loyalty to every practice, opinion, and tradition of the past, and to this code they viewed Cherry as a traitor. It was a cruel offence when he happened to say that he liked to drink chocolate, and when Alvar made a point of his having some; when Alvar now and again used Spanish expressions in speaking to him, when he pronounced Spanish names in Spanish fashion, or, worst of all, regretted Spanish sunshine; when he yielded to Alvar’s care for his health, or seemed to turn to him for sympathy—a hundred such pin-pricks occurred every day. And yet the foolish twins scrupulously did what they thought their duty. That Alvar owned their father’s horses cost Nettie floods of tears; but she insisted on Bob asking his permission before he took one to ride to Hazelby, and she always showed him a kind of sulky deference.
“How can you be so silly, Nettie?” said Jack, in answer to a pettish remark. “Do you want Cherry to quarrel with Alvar?”
“No,” said Nettie; “but I didn’t think he would have liked Spain, and have talked so much about the pictures and things. Last night he asked Alvar to play to him.”
“I should think you might be glad to see him pleased with anything; he looks wretched enough.”
“Well, I like what I’m used to,” said Nettie, in a choked voice. “I don’t care to hear about all the stupid people you met in Spain.”
“The friends we made in Spain,” said Jack, in high indignation, “were people with whom it was a privilege to associate.”
“I daresay,” said Nettie; “but old acquaintances are good enough for me; and old weather and everything. Yes, Buffer, I’ll take you out, if it is a nasty cold morning.”
And Nettie went off, with a train of dogs behind her, angry with all her brothers, for even Bob had had the sense to grumble out “that people must do as they pleased, and she had better let Cherry and Alvar alone,” and feeling as if she only were faithful to the dear home standard.
As Jack stood by the hall fire, heavy-hearted enough himself, in spite of his rebuke to his sister, there was a ring at the bell, and the cloud cleared from his brow as he started forward to greet Mr Stanforth with an eagerness unusual with him.
He was too unaffectedly pleased to be embarrassed, and began almost at once,—