Chris's rare displeasure actually was aroused now. Her slight figure stiffened, and she tapped her knee with her riding-switch. She never touched her animal with this weapon, whatever his idiosyncrasies, and certainly the horses she rode generally behaved with docility.
Jack surveyed her with amused eyes as they turned up under the trees. "All right," he said imperturbably. "He wasn't. My mistake, no doubt. But where on earth were you hiding during the supper extras? He was missing too. Curious, wasn't it?"
Chris came out of her temper with a winning gesture of appeal. "Jack dear, don't! I've heard such a lot about it from Aunt Philippa already. And why shouldn't I talk to my pals? You wouldn't like it if I didn't talk to you sometimes."
"Is he that sort of pal?" asked Jack.
She nodded. "Just that sort. And Trevor knows all about it and understands. I've just had a line from him to tell me so."
"Have you, though?" said Jack. "Then all I can say is Trevor is a brick—a very special kind of brick—and I hope you realize it."
"He's just the sweetest man in the world," said Chris with enthusiasm.
"He is never horrid about things, and he never thinks what isn't."
"Lucky for you!" said Jack.
"Why?" She turned towards him sharply.
He began to smile. "Because, my dear, you have rather an unfortunate knack of making things appear—as they are not."