"How did you hurt your arm?"
Melicent's voice was soft, but singularly clear. It had a carrying quality.
"Uncle Edmund says I am not to tell you," she replied.
Mr. Cooper was all the more angry, because he felt sure that his niece could and would have skated ably over this thin ice had he not repudiated all wish to "keep things dark." She had done exactly what he told her to do, and he wanted to box her ears.
"Give us news of your Cochin China hen, Gwendolen," he broke in. "Has she been laying away again?"
"Yes, in the hedge," said his daughter, giving her reply in lifeless tone and fewest words; and silence fell again.
"Oh, by the way, I have a pleasant surprise for Melicent," said Mrs. Cooper suddenly, her countenance wreathed in smiles. She always spoke as though coaxing a very young child, who needed encouragement and reassurance; and her niece resented it as actively as did the villagers. "What do you think arrived for you this morning, Melicent? Theo, darling, if you look on mother's desk, you will find a letter for Cousin Melicent. I suppose the mail travels faster than the boat you came in, Melicent."
Theo brought a letter and handed it to her cousin, who took it with composure.
"I wonder whom that comes from?" said Mrs. Cooper archly.
"It's from Hubert Mestaer."