Her sensitive face flushed.
“To-morrow, I think,” she half-whispered, with a glance in the direction of Mrs. Tregaskis, that seemed to Ludovic to convey hostility and a half defiant fear.
“Well, Sybil,” Bertha observed, “am I to see the garden, too?”
“Oh yes, of course. I’m longing for your advice—you know so much about a garden, and those things you made me get for the rockery last year aren’t doing quite as well as I hoped. Do come and tell me what you think of them.”
Mrs. Tregaskis rose. Her eye rested for a moment on the children. Then she said briskly:
“The children must show us the way. I expect they’ve ferreted out every corner in the place, during that grand exploration before tea, if they haven’t actually danced upon your most cherished rock-plants. I know what country kids are like.”
Ludovic thought of the two little forlorn figures that he had found under the great ilex-tree, and Mrs. Tregaskis’ joviality seemed to him singularly out of place.
He rose and opened the door.
“Form fours—quick march—left, right, left, right,” cried Bertie playfully, giving Rosamund a gentle push by the shoulders.
Rosamund and Frances went out.