CHAPTER II
A DANGEROUS TALENT
Dinner was nearly over at Tarnside. The meal was served with some ceremony, although the bill of fare was frugal except when game could be shot and, as a rule, nobody but Osborn talked much. Now he had satisfied his appetite he looked about the spacious room. The handsome, molded ceiling was dark from neglect and the cornice was stained by damp. The light of the setting sun streamed in through the long casement window which commanded the shining tarn and the woods that melted into shadow at the mouth of the dale. It was a noble view, but it did not hold Osborn's eyes, for the quivering sunbeams searched out the faded spots on the curtains and the worn patches on the rugs on the polished floor.
"We need a number of new things and I don't know how they're to be got," he remarked, and when Mrs. Osborn said nothing knitted his brows. He had put away some money for renovations, but it had gone. One could not keep money at Tarnside; it vanished and left nothing to show how it had been spent.
"I understand young Askew is back at Ashness," he resumed, looking hard at Grace.
"Yes," said Grace. "I met him not long since."
Osborn frowned. He knew she had met Kit, but did not know if he liked her candor. The girl was independent, but he thought she now understood the responsibilities of her rank.
"The fellow is obviously prosperous, since he's spending a large sum on draining. I saw a big stack of pipes and a number of men at work. My opinion is it's a ridiculous waste of money."
"Perhaps there are worse extravagances," Grace rejoined. "I expect he has some hope of getting his money back by growing better crops. Ours goes and never returns."
Mrs. Osborn gave her a warning glance. Osborn hated contradiction and
Grace and he often jarred, but the girl smiled.