With a muttered and intensely sincere "God help me!" Tony went round and stood beside her, patting her shoulder awkwardly, but very gently.
"My dear, my dear, what is it? Why do you cry?"
She lifted her little face, all tear-stained and piteous.
"I thought you'd be glad it was all at an end and done with," she sobbed, "but your chief concern seems to be that you'll still have the bother of me. I can't get married just to get out of the way. I've a great mind to accept Cripps and see what you'd say then: that would be bother enough----"
"Cripps! What on earth do you mean?"
"Cripps is a gentleman, a dear, nice boy; he wrote to me--it was one of the letters you forwarded, but he'd disguised his writing so you never noticed--saying he thought I'd got into trouble through waving my hand to him, and that was why I'd gone away; and he was dreadfully sorry, and he'd go to you immediately if I gave him leave--he's going to Sandhurst next term if he passes, you know--and that there was nobody in the world--oh, you know the sort of thing----"
"Indeed, I don't," cried Tony, in vigorous disclaimer. "I never heard such nonsense. And what did you do?"
"I wrote him ever such a pretty letter, but I pointed out that the damsel destined for him is probably at this moment wearing a pinafore and a pigtail. I was motherly and kind and judicious."
Lallie's face was still wet with tears, but her eyes sparkled and were full of mischief again.
"I'm glad one of you showed a modicum of sense. Remember, I know nothing of Cripps and his vagaries; don't send him to me, whatever you do."