Mrs. Wallis briefly explained that her uncle had suspected Joy of reading a sensational novel, and had not accepted her denial; but she knew of no reason why the girls should not be on their old confidential terms, she declared, and had not noticed there was anything wrong between them.
Eric considered the matter in silence for a few minutes, then he said:
"Of course Joy is very fond of reading—she's a regular little bookworm; but I'm quite sure she wouldn't tell a story. Uncle Jasper doesn't know her as we do, mother."
Later, the boy spoke to Joy upon the subject, but she firmly refused to discuss it with him; and appeared so distressed when he would have persisted in "trying to get the root of the matter," as he expressed it, that his heart was quite touched.
"Never you mind, Joy," he told her sympathetically. "Uncle Jasper will find out the truth sooner or later."
"It's dreadful he should think so badly of me," sighed Joy; "he used to be so nice me when we first came—though I don't think he ever liked me so well as Celia—and now he's quite different."
"Celia seems to be prime favourite with him," Eric remarked reflectively; "she knows which side her bread is buttered, does Celia."
This was not an elegant speech, but rightly expressed the opinion Eric had formed of his elder sister. For the first few days after his arrival at the Moat House he had watched her in rather a puzzled fashion, surprised at her attentions to Sir Jasper; then a light had seemed to dawn across his mind, and her conduct had apparently caused him much amusement.
Sir Jasper had welcomed Eric very warmly; but the blunt, outspoken school boy had not made the immediate favourable impression upon him that Celia with her pretty, smiling face and winning ways had done; and Eric, on his part, had not much taken to the little old man with his wrinkled face and sharp inquisitive eyes.
It was August now, and the weather was so intensely hot that the geraniums drooped in the flower beds around the terrace at the Moat House, and the earth cracked for lack of moisture. One sultry afternoon found Eric and his sisters in the sitting-room in the east wing, "enjoying a lazy time, doing nothing," as Joy said, for the air was so oppressive that it made everyone feel languid, and disinclined for exertion of any kind.