Reggie was quite content. If he was not wanted to go, he was quite happy to stop. He was extremely fond of his mother, and the thought of her possible discomfort was most unpleasant to him, but what was the good of worrying? There was absolutely no danger. Mrs. Davenport was an eminently sensible person, and he could not lessen her discomfort by thinking about it. Let us be sensible by all means; let us take things as they come, without thinking about them when there is nothing to be done. Truly these boyish natures are a little irritating at times!
Mr. Davenport left the hall, and Reggie resumed his place on the floor, and had another cup of tea.
"Poor mother!" he said with sincerity; "how dreadfully wet and cold she will be."
Percy had retired to the smoking-room, and the two were alone.
"Your father was rather vexed," she said.
"I'm afraid he was," said Reggie. "I wish he'd let me go instead of him."
"Why don't you go with him?"
"That would do no good," said Reggie. "He's only going because he is anxious. I'm not the least anxious. Mother is sure to have turned in at some cottage to wait till the snow was over, or until she could get a carriage. If I could save her anything by going out, of course I'd go."
Gertrude was frowning at the fire.
"I think I'll ask him whether I may come with him," she said.