There was nothing of the invalid in the slim, quick-moving, aristocratic figure. He was playing the host with happy face.
"I declare—you look real well!" said Aunt Jane, watching him.
"Oh, I'm well—I'm happy!" he replied.
Something in the voice arrested her, and she turned away.
"I wouldn't be too happy—not the first day or so," she said softly.
"Do you mean to spoil it?" He came and stood by the fire and looked down at her sternly.
"No—I shan't spoil anything—" A crash of thunder filled the air, and the room grew dark. Little sulphurous lights played in it—and withdrew, dancing across the potted plants.
"Here's your tea!" said Aunt Jane out of the subsiding din.
"Put it here, Henry." Medfield rolled a little table in front of Aunt Jane and watched the man as he set it down. He ran an eye over the tray——