“She wouldn’t have played with any other child if I’d been there” said Andrews, “I was pretty sharp with Anne about it. But she said he was an aristocratic looking little fellow—”
“Was he in Highland costume?” Feather interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am. Anne excused herself by saying she thought you must know something about him. She declares she saw you come into the Gardens and speak to his Mother quite friendly. That was the day before Robin fell and ruined her rose-coloured smock and things. But it wasn’t through playing boisterous with the boy—because he didn’t come that morning, as I said, and he never has since.”
Andrews, on this, found cause for being momentarily puzzled by the change of expression in her mistress’ face. Was it an odd little gleam of angry spite she saw?
“And never has since, has he?” Mrs. Gareth-Lawless said with a half laugh.
“Not once, ma’am,” answered Andrews. “And Anne thinks it queer the child never seemed to look for him. As if she’d lost interest. She just droops and drags about and doesn’t try to play at all.”
“How much did she play with him?”
“Well, he was such a fine little fellow and had such a respectable, elderly, Scotch looking woman in charge of him that Anne owned up that she hadn’t thought there was any objections to them playing together. She says they were as well behaved and quiet as children could be.” Andrews thought proper to further justify herself by repeating, “She didn’t think there could be any objection.”
“There couldn’t,” Mrs. Gareth-Lawless remarked. “I do know the boy. He is a relation of Lord Coombe’s.”
“Indeed, ma’am,” with colourless civility, “Anne said he was a big handsome child.”