"Of course I don't think you are an ogre," she said, "but I do wish you would let Hilda play her music her own way."
"Oh, don't talk nonsense, Judy," said Hilda; "you quite forget that Mr. Quentyns knows a great deal more about music than I do."
"He doesn't play half nor quarter as well as you, for all that," replied Judy, with emphasis.
Hilda bent forward and kissed her little sister on her forehead.
"We won't have any more music at present," she said, "it is time for us to return to the house. You are going to dine at the Rectory this evening, are you not, Mr. Quentyns?"
"If you will have me."
"Of course we shall all be delighted to have you."
"Hilda," said Judy, "do you know that Mildred Anstruther is down at the house waiting to see you?"
A faint shadow of disappointment flitted across Hilda Merton's face—an additional wave of color mounted to Jasper Quentyns' brow. He looked at Hilda to see if she had noticed it; Hilda turned from him and began to arrange her music.
"Come," she said, "we mustn't keep Mildred waiting."