"He must certainly be unusual! I should like to know more of him. He might be strong enough to tame my wild bird."
"Your wild bird?"
"I mean your ward, Miss Lutwyche. She needs a deal of taming. She is full of fine qualities, but has no chance to exercise them, all things being well with her. She is spoilt, as the only child proverbially is. However, as your friend says, we must leave it to life to teach her various things that she will have to learn."
As he spoke, Carol's eye was following Melicent, who had finished playing, and was arranging another sett. She had not once played in the same sett as Brooke. Now she put him to play with Theo, against Sybil Ayres and a curate. She was sorry for Theo, who had, after all, not succeeded in obtaining Gertie Gordon's "crib," and was still "resting" according to the language of her profession—a euphemism which ought to have delighted Mr. Cooper.
Lancelot had been Melicent's partner, and was at her heels.
"You promised to show me the latest treasure-trove," he said, "and I've been waiting all the afternoon."
"We found it at Citta della Piève," she said, "and I really do believe it is valuable. Pater is wonderful, he has such an eye for the real thing."
She led the way to a little garden-house which was Harry Helston's workshop, and lifted a cloth carefully from an object which lay on the table.
It was the oaken figure of a winged child, with dimpled hands and feet, and exquisite face. It had evidently been wrenched from a frieze or mantel-carving of leaves and flowers. Great part of the surface was still coated in grey mould, but the face and throat had been skilfully cleansed.
"He is treating it with glass paper, and it's slow work," said Melicent, touching the angel with soft, appreciative fingers. "It was broken in two places, but he has mended it perfectly. When it is polished, it is going to be the finial of the baluster in the hall."