"His father has not had much of his company," remarked the colonel. "Jack has been going up to London continually, and whatever leisure he had he spent here."
"Does the vicar complain that he has too little of his son's society?" inquired Aunt Patty. "It always seems to me that he prefers the company of his books, since Jack and he have so little in common. But he must be very pleased that Jack has passed his exam."
"Has he passed?" exclaimed Miss Cottrell eagerly. "When did you hear? Why did no one tell me?"
It was not quite easy to answer the latter question. I trembled lest Miss Cottrell with her talent for investigation should discover why Jack had become suddenly desirous of change of scene. Happily she was just then too absorbed in anticipating the return of her fiancé to devote much attention to the affairs of others.
They were expected to arrive in time for afternoon tea. I watched Miss Cottrell drive off, radiant with satisfaction, to meet them at the station, then I took a book and seated myself amid the flowers in my favourite nook on the top of the porch. It was a warm afternoon, no breeze reached me where I sat, and the air was heavy with the perfume of the roses and jasmine that grew about the porch. Bees were buzzing about me, and now and then a white butterfly would flit past my book. It was a book on Goethe which Alan Faulkner had advised me to read and which father had procured for me from a London library. I was truly interested in it, yet I found it hard to fix my attention on its pages this afternoon. The sweet summer atmosphere and the stillness, broken only by the hum of insect life, made me drowsy. My book dropped, my head sank sideways, and I passed into a pleasant dream.
I was wandering through a wood with Alan Faulkner beside me when the stir and bustle of arrival below roused me to consciousness of my actual surroundings. How long I had been sleeping I could not tell, but the wagonette stood before the house, and as I sprang up and rubbed my eyes, I heard Paulina's high, thin American tones calling for "Nan." I ran down and we met at the foot of the stairs.
"Nan—you dear old Nan! Why weren't you on the doorstep to welcome me?" cried Paulina as she threw her arms round me. "Come, you need not be afraid to kiss me! I am warranted perfectly harmless."
"That's more than I'd warrant you, Pollie Dicks," came as an aside from her father.
"Indeed, I am not afraid," I responded, a little surprised at the fervour of her embrace, "and I'm very glad you've come back."
"That's right. I can't tell you how good it feels to be at 'Gay Bowers' again!" cried Paulina gleefully. "But say, Nan, what's the matter with you? I declare you've been sleeping! You lazy thing! It's time I came back to wake you up."