“He had better not!” said Sir James. “He knows differently. The other young dog will learn from him. Make him discontented, I’m afraid; but there—it is not our doing.”
Lady Danby sighed.
“They’ll come back in a hour or two quite companions,” continued Sir James. “Boys like that are a little awkward at their first meeting. Soon wear off. I am going to write letters till three. After their dinner perhaps I shall take them in the boat down the river.”
Lady Danby sighed again, and Sir James went to see to his letters for the post.
By this time Master Edgar had walked softly out on to the lawn, with his right hand in his pocket, and his left thumb playing about his mouth, looking the while in all directions but that occupied by Dexter, who followed him slowly, waiting for his young host to speak.
But Eddy did not seem to have the slightest intention of speaking. He only sidled away slowly across the lawn, and then down one of the winding paths among the shrubs and ornamental trees.
This went on for about ten minutes, during which they got to be further and further from the house, not a word being spoken; and though Dexter looked genial and eager as he followed his young host, the silence chilled him as much as did the studied way in which his companion avoided his eyes.
“What a beautiful garden you’ve got!” said Dexter at last.
There was no reply.
Eddy picked up a stone, and threw it at a thrush.