“That’s just like father. He gets so excited that he flies about all over the house, and hardly knows what he is doing.”
“He is delightfully fresh and breezy; just like his books. And now you would like some refreshments. They are in the little room over there. I shall be happy to accompany you, if you will accept my somewhat—er—inefficient escort.”
Hilary murmured some words of thanks, a good deal puzzled to understand the meaning of those last two words. Somewhat to her surprise, her new friend had not risen to talk to her father, and even now, as she stood up in response to his invitation, he remained in his seat, bending forward to grope behind the curtains. A moment later he drew forth something at the sight of which Hilary gave an involuntary exclamation of dismay. It was a pair of crutches; and as Mr Rayner placed one under each arm and rose painfully to his feet, a feeling of overpowering pity took possession of the girl’s heart. Her eyes grew moist, and a cry of sympathy forced themselves from her trembling lips.
“Oh—I—I’m sorry!” she gasped, with something that was almost a sob of emotion, and Mr Rayner winced at the sound as with sudden pain.
“Thank you,” he said shortly. “You are very kind. I’m—I’m used to it, you know. This way, please.” And without another word he led the way towards the refreshment room, while Hilary followed, abashed and sorrowful.
Chapter Seven.
An “At Home.”
Hilary asked her father many questions about the new acquaintance, and took great interest in what he had to tell.