"I hope he delivered his message?" Harding inquired. "It is his birthday to-morrow, and his father is going to take him for the day to the seaside. He was to ask if your brother would go with him."
"Oh, Bob will be delighted, I'm sure," said Miss Wilton. "I should think you would enjoy the holiday, Mr. Harding, you must be thankful to get rid of your charge now and then."
Scarlett, sitting on the end of the sofa, saw Harding's face darken with displeasure. "It makes very little difference, thank you," said the tutor coldly. "I think I'll go and find Guy now." And he bowed himself out of the room in his sullen fashion. The girl looked after him, and then turned to Adrian and laughed.
"Aren't we dignified?" she said. "What did I say to make him so cross? I didn't mean any harm."
"Oh, I don't know—I don't think you said anything very dreadful. Who is Guy?"
"Guy Robinson. His father has no end of money, Jones and Robinson the builders, you know, who are always getting big contracts for things in the newspapers—you see their names for ever. Old Robinson has bought the Priory, so they are neighbours of ours. Guy is twelve or thirteen, the only boy, and they won't send him to school."
"Mr. Harding is his tutor?"
Miss Wilton nodded.
"I shouldn't much fancy him for mine," said Scarlett reflectively. "I'm rather inclined to pity Master Guy."