Chapter Nineteen.
Visitors to the Burges.
It was quite like old days, Hazel thought, as George Canninge walked beside her up the drive to Mr William Forth Burge’s door. There was no assumption of gallantry, not a word but such as a gentleman would have addressed to a friend. But he chatted to her pleasantly and well; laughed about the enjoyment of the school children, their great appreciation of the feast; and introduced the general topics of the day, drawing Hazel out so that, to her surprise, she found herself answering and questioning again, as if George Canninge were some pleasant friend whom she had known for years.
“Ah, Miss Burge, how are you!” he cried cheerily. “I found Miss Thorne on the way here, and I thought I ought to come and say a word as well, for I’ve not seen you since the feast.”
“I’m so glad you did come, Mr Canninge,” said the little lady, shaking hands very warmly, as she led the way into the drawing-room after kissing Hazel affectionately. “You don’t know how we have talked about you.”
“Slanders behind my back. Miss Burge!”
“Bless my heart, sir, no. Why, it was all about how you did go on and help at the school feast, making such fun and games for the poor children; and it all seemed so strange.”
“Strange, Miss Burge!” said Canninge. “May I ask why!”
“Because we’d always heard that you were so proud and ’orty like, sir, when you’re really about the nicest gentleman I ever met.”
“Do you hear that Miss Thorne!” he cried merrily. “There, I shall go home as proud as a peacock. Oh, here’s Mr Burge. What do you think your sister says!”