Ten Degrees Backward

by Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler

"Yes, I did. I own I did not like him as much as I liked Isabel, but I had a great admiration for his abilities and a great respect for his character."

But Annabel shook her head. "He was too clever: I never could understand what he was talking about: he was far too clever for you and me."

"Thank you," I retorted; "speak for yourself." But I knew what Annabel meant.

The day of Fay's return came at last: and I decided to meet her at Liverpool Street Station with the car, and motor her down home in the cool of the evening, as it was a lovely ride when once you had left London behind you, and I knew my darling would enjoy it.

Strange to say the same idea occurred to Annabel. "Why don't you motor up to town yourself and call at Gamage's for some things I want for the Sunday-school Prize-giving, and then Fay could motor back with you, and her maid could bring the luggage on by train? I like the prizes I get at Gamage's better than any I get anywhere else. I could give you the list of exactly what I want, and it wouldn't take you long to select them."

I duly obeyed my sister's behest, and went on to meet Fay at Liverpool Street. Her dear face lighted up with joy at the sight of me, and the train had hardly stopped before she was out of her carriage and into my arms.

"Oh, Reggie, how darling of you to come all this way to meet me, and what a heavenly drive home we shall have together!" she exclaimed, fairly hugging me with delight when I had expounded to her my plan. "It was just like you to contrive such a lovely treat for me!"

I felt this was an auspicious occasion to put in a word for my sister. "It was Annabel's idea," I said (as indeed it was, as well as my own); "she thought you would enjoy the motor ride more than the railway journey." I saw no necessity for diminishing the credit due to Annabel by dragging in any mention of the Sunday-school prizes.

Fay turned away so quickly to see if her maid had got all the packages safe that she hardly seemed to hear what I had said. At any rate, she made no reply to it, so I concluded she had not heard.

Annabel's motor ride did not turn out such a great success after all. I suppose it was too tiring for my fragile darling after her journey, and her joy at the sight of me was so exuberant that I did not realise at first how done-up she was. During the long drive home she hardly spoke, and her weary little face grew whiter and whiter, until when at last we did reach Restham Manor she insisted on going straight to bed, whilst Annabel and I had a dreary dinner by ourselves downstairs.