“What are you doing in there?”
“The mother of five children is in bed with a sixth. I play housemaid and nurse. We shall meet to-night. Father and I dine with you.”
“Yes, I know. Joyce, you must wear your prettiest frock. Have you a very pretty frock?”
“I think so. I made it myself.”
She nodded and vanished.
Walking on, Lionel remembered that he had asked for her advice, but somehow he had not got it.
That afternoon he rode with the Squire. Father and son were very friendly together, although each shrank from discussion of subjects next his heart. This intercourse, so intimate—up to a point—revealed the Squire in a new light. Really the Squire revealed himself, accepting his boy, at long last, as man and comrade. To his dismay, however, Lionel did not share his feelings about the family heirlooms. Sir Geoffrey approached them warily, sincerely anxious to know where an up-to-date young soldier stood.
“We have some valuable stuff in the old house,” he said.
“Have we?” Lionel asked.
“The Sir Joshua, for instance. With your consent, my boy, it might be sold.”