Not till they were all sitting at luncheon, was Laura able, in a low tone, to inquire after her brother. Little Alice knew nothing of her uncle's visit to England. Godfrey and Laura had tacitly agreed to keep the child in ignorance of it. But now Laura asked, with some eagerness, "And Gillie? What's happened to Gillie? Is he still abroad?"
Olive answered at once, "No, he's gone back to Mexico." And then, as he saw a look of blank disappointment shadow her face, he added, hastily, "He gave me a lot of messages for you—I was coming over this afternoon to deliver them. You know what Gillie's like—he never writes if he can help it!"
"Yes," she said, "I know that," and she sighed. "Did he go from a French port?" she asked.
Oliver hesitated. It was almost as if he had forgotten. But at last he answered, "Yes, he went from Havre. I saw him off."
And then something rather untoward happened. There came a violent ringing at the front door—a loud, imperious pulling at the big, old-fashioned iron bell-pull. To the surprise of his mother, Oliver flushed—a deep, unbecoming brick red. Starting up from table, he pushed his chair aside, and walked quickly to the door. It was almost as if he expected some one. "I'll see who it is!" he called out.
They heard him striding across the hall, and flinging open the front door....
Then he came back slowly, and Mrs. Tropenell saw that there was a look of immeasurable relief on his face. "It's a man who's brought a parcel from Pewsbury for one of the servants. He declared he couldn't make any one hear at the back, and so he came round to the front door—rather impudent of him, eh?" and he sat down again.
Coffee was served in the pleasant, low-ceilinged drawing-room, and then Oliver and Laura went out of doors, with Alice trotting by their side.
It was quite like old times. And the child voiced their unspoken feeling, when, slipping her hand into Oliver's, she exclaimed, "This is jolly! Just like what it used to be when you were here before!"
And he pressed the little hand which lay so confidingly in his. "Yes," he said, in a low voice, "the same—but nicer, don't you think so, Alice?"