"I think so, Loftus. She said to me—'I hope your brother is not laughing at my little friend, Matty Bell.' Then she added, 'I know Matty is not beautiful nor specially attractive, but she has the kindest heart.' I said perhaps you were flirting, and that I knew you could flirt. She did not make any answer, only she looked grave, and turned away when you and Miss Bell came near us."
"That accounts," began Loftus. He did not explain himself further and by-and-by the little party reached the Manor.
There was an old tumble-down lodge at the gates. It was inhabited by a very poor man, who, for the sake of getting a shelter over his head, now and then undertook to clean up and do odd jobs in the Rosendale gardens. Mrs. Bertram thought it well to have some one in the lodge, and she was pleased with the economical arrangement she had made with David Tester.
One of his duties was to lock the old gates at night. There was a small and a large gate leading into the avenue, and it was one of Mrs. Bertram's special whims that both should be locked at night. Old Tester thought his mistress foolishly particular on this point, and wondered at so close a lady going to the expense of new locks, which were sent down from London, and were particularly good and expensive.
The small gate was furnished with a latch-lock as well. This arrangement was made for Tester's convenience, so that if Mrs. Bertram and her daughters chose to be absent from home a little later than usual, he could still close the gate and go to bed.
When the girls and their brother left home that evening Catherine had not forgotten the latch-key.
"We may be late," she said, "so I will put it in my pocket."
They were late, and as they approached the old gates Catherine gave the key to Mabel, who hastened to fit it into the lock of the side gate.
To her surprise it opened at a touch.
"Kate!" exclaimed the young girl, "Tester has been very careless; he has never closed the side gate."