Chapter Nine.
The Violin Lesson.
Three days after Mr Bertrand’s return, Rex Freer arrived at the house in a state of triumphant excitement. This was by no means his first appearance since he had left Cloudsdale, for he never passed the house on any of his numerous expeditions without running in for ten minutes’ chat, so that the girls were getting accustomed to see his head appear at the window as they sat at work, or to hear the loud rat-tat on the door which heralded his coming. They soon had practical demonstration of his “managing powers,” for more than once, after definitely making up their minds that nothing would induce them to stir from the house, they found themselves meekly putting on hats and jackets to join a tobogganing party, and to accompany the young gentleman part of his way home. Lettice was always easily influenced, but high-spirited Norah made many protests against what she was pleased to call his “Indian ways,” and on one occasion even went so far as to dare a direct refusal. Lettice had left the room to get ready for a walk along the snowy lanes, but Miss Norah sat obstinately in her chair, the heel of one slipper perched on the toe of the other, in an attitude which was a triumph of defiance.
“Well!” said Mr Rex, putting his hands in his pockets, and standing with his back to the fire in elderly gentleman fashion. “Why don’t you get on your coat? I can’t wait many minutes, you know, or it will get dark. Hurry up!”
“I’m not going. It’s too cold. I don’t like trudging over the snow. I am going to stay at home.”
Norah raised her thin, little face to his with an audacious glance, whereat “the strange boy’s” eyes dilated with the steely flash which she knew so well.
“Then please go upstairs and tell Lettice not to trouble to get ready. I can’t allow her to come home alone, along the lonely roads,” he said quietly; and Norah slunk out of the room and put on her snow-shoes in crestfallen silence, for it did Lettice good to have a daily walk, and she could not be so selfish as to keep her at home.
This afternoon, however, the call was longer than usual, for Rex came as the bearer of good news. “You have only to make up your mind to do anything, and the rest is quite easy,” he announced coolly. “The mater has made a point of speaking to everyone she has seen about the music lessons, and she has heard of a capital man in Lancaster who is willing to come down for an afternoon once a fortnight. I met your father in the village, and he agrees to the terms, so now there is nothing left but to write and fill in the day to begin. Thursday suits him best. Do you say Thursday first or Thursday fortnight?”
“Oh, the first Thursday. I don’t want to wait a day longer than I can help. Oh, how lovely! So it is really settled. I wanted it so badly that I was afraid it would never come true. How am I to get over to your house, I wonder?”
“I’ll drive over and bring you back next morning. We might use our bicycles, but the violin case would be rather a nuisance, and I suppose you’ll need a bag of some description. I’ll be here at eleven, and then we shall get home to lunch. Edna is in a great state of excitement at the thought of seeing you.”