Archie then went on to tell her how he had called upon Harold, and how Harold had congratulated him.
“You didn’t forget to tell him that people are saying that Mr. Airey is going to marry Miss Avon?” said Norah.
“Have I ever forgotten to carry out one of your commissions?” he asked.
“Good gracious! You didn’t suggest that you were commissioned by me to tell him that?”
“Not likely. That’s not the sort of new potatoes I am. I was on the cautious side, and I didn’t even mention the name of the girl.” He did not think it necessary to say that the reason for his adoption of this prudent course was that he had forgotten the name of the girl. “No, but when I told him that Airey was going to marry her, he gave me a look.”
“A look? What sort of a look?”
“I don’t know. The sort of a look a chap would give to a surgeon who had just snipped off his leg. Poor old Harry looked a bit cut up. Then he turned to me and said as gravely as a parson—a bit graver than some parsons—that he’d feel obliged to me if I’d never mention her name again.”
“But you hadn’t mentioned her name, you said.”
“Neither I had. He didn’t mention it either. I can only give you an idea of what he said, I won’t take my oath about the exact words. But I’ll take my oath that he was more knocked down than any chap I ever came across.”
“I knew it,” said Norah. “He’s in love with her still. Mamma says he’s not; but I know perfectly well that he is. She doesn’t care a scrap for Mr. Airey.”