They had nearly finished tea when Gerald marched into the room, looking perfectly unconcerned. The minute he saw the visitor, however, his countenance changed, for it had not occurred to him that Gilbert would remain so long.
"Where have you been all the afternoon?" Mr. Willis inquired sharply.
"I've been fishing, father."
"Alone?"
"Yes," the boy responded, adding, after a moment's hesitation, "that is, part of the time."
"Sit down and have your tea now," Mr. Bailey interposed; "I dare say you are hungry."
No further questions were asked Gerald for the present, but the boy saw his father was annoyed with him. Later, when Mr. Bailey volunteered to walk part way home with Gilbert, Mr. Willis would not permit Gerald to accompany them. Angel went with them as far as the garden gate, and watched them down the hill; and on returning to the dining-room, she found her father had been taking Gerald to task for his rudeness in absenting himself from home that afternoon, and Gerald was trying to find excuses for his behaviour.
"I don't like Gilbert Mickle," he was saying as Angel entered the room; "I don't suppose he wanted to see me; he scarcely ever has anything to say to me."
"Perhaps you scarcely ever have anything to say to him," Mr. Willis replied gravely; "but that has nothing to do with the matter. I consider your behaviour this afternoon both rude and selfish—particularly selfish. Where did you go fishing? In the river, I suppose?"
"Yes," Gerald answered sulkily. "Uncle Edward told me not to fish in the clay pits, so, of course, I didn't."