"Natty, I'll go home with you, if you like," said polite Val; "it will be rather a dismal drive up there with no one but Rob Nettleby."
"Mr. Blake is forestalled," said Captain Cavendish, coolly. "Miss Marsh has accorded the honor to me."
"All right," said Val, "I'll go home with Laura Blair, then. Charley can take care of the other three, for Catty lives next door."
Lady Leroy's carryall, with Cherrie Nettleby's elder brother for driver, was waiting at the door. Good-byes were said, Natty kissed her mamma, Laura and Miss Rose, but only shook hands with Miss Clowrie. Captain Cavendish noticed the omission as he seated himself beside her, and they drove off.
"I don't like her," said Natty; "I never did, since I was a child. She was such a crafty, cunning little thing in those days—a sort of spy on the rest of us—a sort of female Uriah Heep."
"Is she so still?"
"Oh, no; she is well enough now; but old prejudices cling to one, you know. I don't like her, because I don't like her—an excellent female reason, you understand."
"Does your brother share your prejudices, Miss Marsh?" asked the young officer, with a meaning smile.
"Charley? I don't know. Why?"
"Because I fancy the young lady is rather disposed to regard him with favor. I may be mistaken, though."