"No, thank you," replied Errington abruptly, his brow growing black with rage at the coldness of the invitation.
"I'll stay here till you return."
Lady Errington went upstairs slowly with Eustace, with a look of anger on her face.
"You see," she said bitterly, pausing at the nursery door, "he does not care a bit about his child."
"Oh, I think he does," answered Eustace discreetly, "but he thought you did not want him to come."
"I am always glad for him to come," remarked Alizon coldly, "but when he does he only makes disagreeable remarks about the boy, so his visits are never very pleasant."
Things were decidedly wrong between this young couple, and they so thoroughly misunderstood one another that Eustace was at a loss how to set them right. He was saved the trouble of further thought, however, by Lady Errington opening the door and preceding him into the nursery.
"There he is, Mr. Gartney," said the young mother, "look at my precious."
"My precious," in all the glory of white hat, white cape and woolly gloves and shoes, was seated in his perambulator ready to go out for his airing, and Mrs. Tasker, with the under-nurse, were both attached to the wheels of his chariot. At the sight of Gartney's bronzed face, he set up a howl, and was only pacified by being taken out of his carriage into the protecting arms of his mother.
"The complete Madonna now," thought Eustace, as he looked at the flushed face of the young mother bending over the rosy one of the child.