They went in to dinner and Andrew sat at the head of his table, saying enough to keep conversation going, but content to give Leonard the lead. Considering how he stood toward his host, Hathersage showed admirable tact. He skilfully turned every topic which might prove difficult and kept the others on safe ground; he was witty in a polished manner, but if anything a little too obviously at ease. For the first time it struck one or two of the party with surprise that there was something in Andrew's bearing which his more brilliant brother-in-law lacked. The soldier from tropical Africa bore the same elusive stamp of command, sincerity and steadfastness. Ethel Hillyard, studying them carefully, decided that Leonard was, by comparison, cheap and superficial.
Still, it was largely due to his efforts that dinner was a pleasant function without an awkward pause in it; and afterward the guests dispersed through several rooms to amuse themselves. When Andrew found a place by Ethel Hillyard in a recess in the hall, she surveyed him with smiling scrutiny.
"I think you did well in going to Canada," she said. "Though I can't quite express what I mean, you look bigger."
"As a matter of fact, I'm a good deal lighter."
Ethel laughed.
"Oh, well, I don't want to make you embarrassed! I believe you had a trying time. Looking after the silver mine didn't prove as easy as you expected?"
"I don't remember what I expected, but I found it very difficult."
"So I gathered. Antony Wannop seems to think the reforms you have in view won't be popular. I suppose you have been summoned home to explain?"
"No," said Andrew; "I came. There's a difference."
"It's marked," Ethel answered. "But we are old friends, Andrew; follow your own bent, stick to your guns. Whatever plans you have determined on will be fair. Once before I told you not to be daunted; but it strikes me that you need less encouragement now."