"But those he makes he keeps, I expect, does he not?" Mr. Bailey asked. "I thought so," he continued, as she assented with a smile; "his friendship is accordingly worth having. He and my nephew seem to get on together; they have tastes in common, no doubt."
"Although Gilbert has known Mr. Willis so short a while, he has formed a very high opinion of him," Mrs. Mickle said earnestly; "but I hope he will not be too constant a visitor at Haresdown House for I fear your nephew may find his society irksome. Gilbert is not always a very genial companion."
"I defy any one to be ungenial with John!"
Mrs. Mickle laughed. She had found the artist, on the few occasions on which she had met him, most entertaining, and she did not wonder that his sunny disposition, which now that his health was better, asserted itself again, was a great attraction to her elder son.
A short while longer she stood talking to Mr. Bailey, whilst Angel and Dora continued their conversation about the robins, discussing by what means the birds could have met their deaths; and then they all left the market, and Mrs. Mickle and Dora went home, leaving Angel and her uncle to pack their purchases into the pony-carriage preparatory to making a start. Just as they were ready to leave, Miss Goodwin came up, and Mr. Bailey insisted on driving her to Myrtle Villa.
"I accept your kind offer most gladly," the old lady said, as she was assisted into the seat by Mr. Bailey, and Angel took her place opposite, with her back to the pony, "for I find these spring days trying, and my basket is heavy. I always do my own marketing; such has been my custom for—I forget how many years."
She was childishly delighted at the unexpected pleasure of a drive, and chatted gaily as they drove down the main street, enumerating to her companions the various articles her basket contained, and bowing impressively to the few acquaintances they met on the road. She sighed regretfully when, after passing over the bridge, in a few minutes more Myrtle Villa was reached, but brightened perceptibly when Mr. Bailey suggested taking her for a drive on another day.
"Really?" she asked, as having helped her to alight he took his seat again. "Oh, that will be delightful!" and her blue eyes shone with pleasure. "Wait a moment! I must give you some of my lilies of the valley; they are now in full bloom."
She entered her garden, hastened to a sheltered corner shaded by a purple lilac tree, and gathered a great bunch of sweet-scented flowers, which, returning, she laid in Angel's lap, smiling happily as she listened to the little girl's exclamations of admiration and thanks; then Pixy started afresh, whilst the old lady stood in her gateway till the pony-carriage was out of sight.
Arrived at home, Angel hastened to the studio in search of her father, to give him a share of her flowers; she found Gilbert Mickle on the point of leaving, and was surprised at the brightness of his face. The boy was in an unusually happy frame of mind, Mr. Willis having found great merit in his sketches.