“I ain’t afraid to go back to Ravenshurst and face it out,” said Florrie.
“No; you shall go back with a good account to give of yourself to-morrow, and now you do as I tell you.”
Harry was so uneasy as to what had become of Mr Alwyn that he was not sorry for any chance of finding out.
Florence walked along by his side more subdued than she had ever been in her life. She answered all the various questions which Harry asked her about home and their father quite meekly and as they neared the keeper’s lodge, to which he knew the way much better than she did, he heard a little sniffle.
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll stand by you,” said Harry good-naturedly, and Florence for once did not reply that she never was afraid in her life.
There was a light still burning in the lodge, and Harry went boldly up and knocked at the door. It was opened by Charles Warren himself, who looked the tall burly figure up and down.
“If you’re Henry Whittaker,” he said, “walk in, and we’ll hear what you’ve got to say.”
“I thank you kindly,” said Harry; “I shouldn’t have intruded, but I’ve brought back my sister, who—”
“Mercy on us, Florrie!” exclaimed Mrs Warren, coming forward, while Wyn, looking very pale and red-eyed, with a large patch of brown paper on his nose, almost fell upon Florence.
“Oh, Florrie I have they sent you home in disgrace, for—for thinking Mr Alwyn was a poacher? It’s all over now, and we’ve been the ruin of everything, and Mr Edgar’s heart will be broke, and all through me.”