“Then I shall have to come and encamp in the neighborhood; that’s all.”
The men looked straight at each other, and Vernon shrugged his shoulders.
“You can come if you like,” said he, indifferently.
Olivia, who had listened with much interest to this discussion, now came forward to bid Vernon good-bye. Ned, with ostentatious discreetness, tramped heavily to the window, and looked out. But he might have spared himself the trouble; for before he got there the ceremony of farewell was over. Olivia had put her hand in Vernon’s, and they had given a brief look each into the face of the other. Ned, as he stared into the bare enclosure outside, suddenly felt a light touch on his arm.
“Good-bye, Mr. Mitchell,” said Olivia. “Don’t forget—your promise.”
“I never forget anything,” said Ned, drily.
The next minute she was hurrying up the lane, with the eye of both men fixed on her retreating figure.
“That’s a good sort,” said Ned, approvingly.
To this Vernon Brander assented very shortly.
Olivia had forbidden Mat to wait for her, but she was not to go home unescorted. At the top of the hill, where the lane joined the high road, she found the irrepressible Fred Williams sitting on the bank, making passes at a white butterfly with his walking stick. Olivia uttered an “Oh!” full of impatience and disgust. Fred got up, grinning at her in obtuse admiration.