“I did not,” Kit replied rather grimly, for he sensed a sneer. “In fact, there was some trouble at the yard——” He turned to Mrs. Carson. “Where is Uncle Jasper?”
Mrs. Carson said Jasper was called away by a telegram, and Kit went to his room. He did not want to talk, and when tea was served he would meet Evelyn. Before he did so he must brace up, and to brace up was rather hard. If the company had no use for him, he ought perhaps to let Evelyn go. He frankly dared not think about it, and he tried to picture his relations’ line.
Alan Carson was kind and might sympathize; he would know Kit had not cheated the shipyard company, but Mrs. Carson ruled her husband. She was old-fashioned, parsimonious and conventional, and Kit imagined she had not from the beginning approved his making Netherhall his home. At all events, if he went to Canada, she would be resigned. Her favorite was Harry Ledward.
Jasper was older than Alan, and Kit had thought he acknowledged his nephew’s claim, but he was inscrutable and marked by baffling humor. His word went, and people reckoned Jasper rich. Kit did not see his line, but he thought he saw Mrs. Haigh’s.
Kit knew her frugal, calculating and ambitious. In fact, he had thought her allowing him to cultivate Evelyn strange. If he lost his post, he was persuaded she would force her daughter to break her conditional engagement, and Evelyn dared not rebel. Mrs. Haigh was firm. On the whole, Kit admitted she would be justified and he must agree.
He got up and went to the window. A servant carried tea to a table at a shady spot and he must go down.
CHAPTER VI
KIT TAKES A KNOCK
Although much rain falls at Netherdale, three or four days after Kit’s return were fine, and he seized all the opportunity for enjoyment the good weather gave. When the west wind curled the tarn Evelyn and he went fishing; when the water shone like glass and motionless silver clouds dotted the tranquil sky they picnicked in the heather, and Kit felt he got nearer Evelyn than he had yet got. Sometimes she had baffled him, and he sensed a reserve he could not break. Now she was kind and frank.
For all that, he knew his mood was reckless and he doubted if he were honest. He felt like a gambler betting on a chance he could not estimate; he risked much, and if he lost he must pay. Moreover, for him to lose might cost Evelyn something; but he felt she would brace up. Kit knew she was not altogether romantic; he had remarked in her a shrewdly practical vein. Anyhow, the splendid days were going, and he resolved to take all they gave.
In fine weather, tea was served on the lawn at Netherhall, and Kit one afternoon joined the group round the table under a tree. The soft patter of the leaves was soothing and one heard the river splash. Kit, sitting on a mossy bank, languidly looked about. Evelyn’s dress and shady hat were white, but her hair was black. Kit saw her face in profile and thought it cut the dark green background like a delicate cameo. His sister faced him; Agatha’s skin was white and her clothes were blue. One remarked her calm and quiet dignity. Mrs. Carson’s thin face was rather pinched, and her clothes were old-fashioned, but somehow one knew her important. Alan Carson’s red face harmonized with his rough, belted coat and knickerbockers. He was obviously a country gentleman; one knew that was all. Jasper and Ledward were in the shadow, and Kit thought the old fellow exotic; his was another type.