"And your birthday will be on the twenty-third of June," said Allan, rather sullenly. "Nearly a year from now."
"Nearly a year from October to June! What odd ideas you have about arithmetic! And now I must run and find Lady Emily. We are going to drive to Morton Towers together."
Allan made way for her to pass, and followed her downstairs, vexed and disheartened. His mother was to leave him next day; and then there would be one house the less in which he and Suzette could meet—the house which was to be their home.
He had not visited Mrs. Wornock since her nocturnal perambulation, and he had prevented his mother paying her a second visit, albeit the hope of a white peacock and a certain interest in the widow's personality had made Lady Emily anxious to call at the Manor. Allan had found reasons for putting off any such call, without saying one disparaging word about the lady. He had heard of Mrs. Wornock from Suzette, who reproached him for going no more to Discombe.
"I did not know you were so fickle," she said. "I really think you have behaved abominably to poor Mrs. Wornock. She is always asking me why you don't go to see her; and I am tired of inventing excuses."
Suzette was at the Manor every other day. Mrs. Wornock was teaching her to play the organ.
"Is it not sweet of her?" she asked Allan. "And though I don't suppose she ever gave any one a lesson in her life till she began to teach me, she has the teaching gift in a marked degree. I love to learn of her. I can play some simple things of Haydn's not altogether badly. Perhaps you will do me the honour to come and hear me some day, when I have got a little further."
"I will go to hear you to-morrow, if I may."
"What! Then you have no objection to Discombe in the abstract, though you have cut poor Mrs. Wornock for the last six weeks?"
"I was so much occupied with my mother."