A shocked silence fell upon the room. Carlyon stood perfectly still, staring at his brother under suddenly frowning brows. Nicky returned his gaze, deprecatingly, but not unhopefully. He put Miss Rochdale strongly in mind of a puppy who, having chewed up his master’s shoes, was doubtful of winning approval.
It was Carlyon who broke the silence. “The devil you have!” he said slowly.
“Yes,” Nicky said. “And I know you won’t like it, Ned, but indeed I never meant to do it! You see, it was—well, you know how he—”
“Just a moment, Nicky! Let me have this from the start! What are you doing in Sussex?”
“Oh, I’ve been rusticated!” Nicky explained. “I was on my way home when—”
“Why?” interrupted Carlyon.
“Well, it is nothing very bad, Ned. You see, there was a performing bear.”
“Oh!” said Carlyon. “I see.”
Nicky grinned at him. “I knew you would! Keighley was with me—just kicking up a lark, you know! And, of course, when I saw that bear—well, I had to borrow it, Ned!”
“Of course,” Carlyon agreed dryly.