Gerald patted her cheek.
"Then perhaps, Carr, you'll oblige Augusta by occupying another chair. I am sorry that I am obliged to withhold the most comfortable from you."
Carr was very much at home with the Wyndhams by now. He pulled forward a cane chair, shook his head at Augusta, and glanced almost timidly at Lilias. He feared the eight sharp eyes of the younger children if he did more than look very furtively, but she made such a sweet picture just then that his eyes sought hers by a sort of fascination. For the first time, too, he noticed that she had a look of Gerald. Her face lacked the almost spiritualized expression of his, but undoubtedly there was a likeness.
The voices, interrupted for a moment by the curate's entrance, soon resumed their vigorous flow.
"Why didn't you bring my dear little sister Valentine down, Gerald?" It was Lilias who spoke.
He rewarded her loving speech by a flash, half of pleasure, half of pain in his eyes. Aloud he said:—
"We thought it scarcely worth while for both of us to come. I must go away again on Monday."
A sepulchral groan from Augusta. Rosie, Betty and Joan exclaimed almost in a breath:—
"And we like you much better by yourself."
"Oh, hush, children," said Marjory. "We are all very fond of Val."