"Yes. Met him just now. He was apparently gazing at the house. Fallen in love with Aunt Kezia, perhaps."
"Did—didn't—he say anything?"
"Not much. What d'you mean?"
"I—I want to tell you something, Denis. I—I've been—mad, I think—"
"Thought there was something up. What is it, old girl?"
Nell suddenly turned and faced him.
"You'll hate me," she said, and plunged into her story.
When she had done there was a little silence. She had averted her eyes from him in terror. She knew how a boy of his age would loathe the fuss she had made—how he would resent her going to Lancaster. She turned her eyes to him—he had buried his head in the cushion and was shaking with laughter!
"Oh, poor old Lancaster! Did you really slang him like that, Nell? I can see him."
She drew a deep breath.