"Certainly," poor Paul agreed, rather helplessly. It was evident that Hazel had interpreted his words to mean, he was under the impression that she, and the Le Mesuriers generally, delighted in cads and the like doubtful company.
At this juncture they reached the flower-garden, which, thanks be to Miles, looked pleasant enough. The girl led her companion swiftly through its winding paths and up the broad flight of steps. The marble-paved hall, with its shaded open windows, was deliciously cool and refreshing after the heat and glare without. In one of the wide recesses Miles was busied about the tea-table, collecting chairs from different quarters of the sparsely furnished hall. He turned as the two approached.
"You remember Miles?" Hazel asked of Paul. "Miles, Mr. Charteris has come home."
The old man bowed deferentially and made to withdraw, but Paul went forward and took the hand of the faithful old servant.
"Remember Miles? I should think I did, and the many things he has forgiven me when I was a boy," he said warmly.
A gleam of pleasure lighted the butler's furrowed countenance.
"I have had a deal of experience of boys," he said, somewhat sententiously, "having five young masters of my own, and I know what is natural to them, and only right, and what is wrong."
"And I was only natural, was I?" Paul laughingly asked.
"Yes, sir," Miles answered stolidly.
Hazel, who had gone in quest of her mother, soon returned with Helen.