“Oh, thanks, but give me spirit! None of your quiet mares for me. But I am at school; there’s no chance for a free day for another three months. This is only the exeat; we go back to-morrow, worse luck!”
“To-morrow! That’s very soon. I’m glad I arranged the chase for to-day. You are at Horsham, aren’t you?”
Dreda turned her head quickly.
“Yes! Who told you?”
“Your sister. The young one—the one who is here to-day.”
“Oh, Maud! Did she come into the drawing-room with Rowena yesterday?”
“Before then. She amused me after you left until Miss Saxon arrived.”
“Oh–h!” Dreda’s face clouded uneasily. How had Maud amused him? What had she said? In what fashion had she managed to prejudice Rowena against so amiable and kindly a neighbour, for she had now not a moment’s doubt that Maud was the cause of the trouble. She determined to put a few leading questions.
“What else did she tell you? She’s a dreadful child. We never know what she is going to say next. I don’t believe she knows herself. What did she say?”
“Oh, nothing particular! G–general information—don’t you know—general information,” stammered Guy Seton uncomfortably. But Dreda was not to be put off the scent. She stared at him fixedly, noted his rising colour, and nodded in quiet conviction.