Chapter Three.
In the Study.
Vane reached the rectory gate and turned in with his brains in the air, dashing here and there like a dragon-fly, skimming after the fashion of a swallow, flying steadily, bumble-bee-fashion, and flopping faintly as the butterfly did whose wings were so much out of proportion to the size of its body. Either way would do, he thought, or better still, if he could fly by a wide-spread membrane stretched upon steel or whalebone ribs or fingers like a bat. Why not? he mused. There could be no reason; and he was beginning to wonder why he had never thought of making some flying machine before, when he was brought back to earth from his imaginary soarings by a voice saying,—
“Hullo! here’s old Weathercock!” and this was followed by a laugh which brought the colour into his cheeks.
“I don’t care,” he thought. “Let him laugh. Better be a weathercock and change about, than be always sticking fast. Uncle says we can’t help learning something for one’s trouble.”
By this time he was at the porch, which he entered just as the footman was carrying out the breakfast things.
“Rector isn’t in the study then, Joseph?” said Vane.
“No, sir; just coming in out of the garden. Young gents is in there together.”