"May I come nearer?"
Joyce started to her feet.
"Take care," she said; "the grass is very dry and slippery;" and as Gilbert Arundel made a rather scrambling ascent, Joyce advanced and held out her hand to him to help him up the last few yards.
"I have been in hiding behind that tree by the gate," he said; "I did not like to disturb the boys by my presence, after the pains you had taken to keep them quiet."
Joyce's colour rose, and she said:
"I would rather you had let me know you were listening, especially when I was talking to the boys."
"Do not be vexed with me," Mr. Arundel said. "I am so glad to have found you here alone."
"I wanted to speak to you, too," she said, quickly, "about my brother; he is"—she stopped, and then went on; "I think I may say it to you—he is the one cloud over our happy life here at Fair Acres. It used not to be so; he was very different once."
"Yes," Mr. Arundel said, "I can quite imagine it was so. Your brother is very weak of purpose, and he got into a bad set at the university where I found him."
"What made you care for him?" Joyce said, simply; "you are so different from him."