"I believe we shall have a thunderstorm," Celia remarked, uneasily.
She was sitting on the window-seat, and as she spoke her eyes wandered anxiously across the wide expanse of woods and meadow lands to the sweep of hills beyond, noting the heavy banks of gathering clouds.
"How still it is! A sort of hush is over everything. Oh, surely we must be going to have a storm!"
"I rather hope we may," Joy replied, "for perhaps it will be a little cooler afterwards. Eric and I spoke of walking to Crumleigh this afternoon; but I don't think it would be wise to venture even such a short distance from home as that, now the weather looks so threatening."
"Where's mother?" asked Eric.
"Gone to Home Vale," Celia answered. "I expect she'll have tea with Miss Pring and Miss Mary."
"And we shall have Uncle Jasper to ourselves at tea-time!" Eric exclaimed, making a grimace. "I never know what to say to him. He takes no interest in cricket or any game. Celia, what do you talk to him about?"
"Oh, I don't know," Celia returned with a smile; "I generally let him choose the subjects."
"Does he ever mention his son?"
"Very seldom."