"To what are we indebted for the honour of so early a call?" he inquired with a twist of his in-drawn lips.
"You were off before I was down this morning," the young man said. "I just looked in to tell you I was going out. That's all."
"You look in rather frequently on the same errand, I believe. Would it be indiscreet on my part to ask where you are going?"
"Not in the least," Reggie declared easily. He lifted for his brother's inspection a pair of skates which he had held dangling at his side. "They've flooded the meadows at Tooley. The ice ought to be in first-rate order, this morning."
"So it is in the moat at home. Half a score people were skating there already as I drove away this morning. Tooley is five miles off. Why need you take the trouble to go to Tooley?"
"Several people, last night, said they were going. I thought I might as well go too."
"Where were you last night, Reggie? I don't want to tie you at home, by any means, but sometimes I like to know where you have been."
"All right, Francis. Of course. There was a dance at the Days' in Queen Anne Street. I've gone to it every New Year's Night, for years. I went there."
"I see." The light hazel eyes of Sir Francis, according strangely with his black hair and palely dusky complexion, considered his brother's cheerful countenance.
"I'm going to ask you not to go to the Days' in Queen Anne Street any more,
Reggie," he said.