Christopher did as he was told, but he realised they had been speaking of him and felt on the defensive. However, he sat down as near to Cæsar as he could. They talked of all manner of people and things of which he knew nothing, traditional jokes cropped up, and Aymer’s propensity for teasing asserted itself in a prominent manner. Renata never failed to respond 57 and never failed to claim Nevil’s protection and to look delightfully shy and dignified and feminine. Presently the children were sent for. To Christopher’s indignant amazement they were plumped down on Aymer and allowed to treat him much as if he was a new species of giant plaything. Charlotte, in her efforts to burrow under Aymer’s arm, rolled off the edge of the sofa and was deftly caught by Christopher, who deposited her on the floor. She immediately tried to clamber up again, but Aymer could not second her efforts with his left arm.
“Put her up again, Christopher,” he said.
But Christopher apparently did not hear, and Mr. Aston, who had been watching, came to the rescue. Christopher slipped away to the window.
“A question of a third baby, I think,” said Mr. Aston softly as he rearranged Charlotte, and Aymer, looking sharply at Christopher, laughed.
When Christopher went to bid him good-night, he found Cæsar alone, looking tired and doing nothing, not even reading.
Christopher said good-night gravely.
“It’s not very late,” remarked Aymer. “Stay with me a bit.”
He patted the chair beside him. Christopher with rather a hot face obeyed.
“How do you like Marden?”
“I—I don’t know yet. There seems to be a lot of people here.”