Mr Rayner hesitated, then, “I—er—if it’s a steep pull, I think I had better stay where I am,” he added, in cheery, decided tones, which brought a flush of delight to Hilary’s cheeks.
She turned in silence to follow her sisters, but before she had advanced many steps, stood still hesitating and stammering—“I—I—the sun is very hot. My head—”
“Well, don’t come, dear, if you are afraid of head-ache. Stay where you are,” said her father kindly; and Miss Carr chimed in, in characteristic fashion—
“But if you are going to chatter, be kind enough to move away to another seat. I am not going to have my nap disturbed if I know it.”
“Come along, Miss Hilary. Our pride won’t allow us to stay after that!” cried Mr Rayner, picking up his crutches and leading the way across the lawn with suspicious alacrity; and no sooner were they seated on the comfortable bench than he turned a smiling face upon his companion, and wished to know if she were satisfied with the result of her lecture.
“Entirely,” said Hilary. “It sounded brave and man-like, and put all at their ease. It is always best to be honest.”
“It is. I agree with you. What about the head?”
“What head?”
“Ah! and is that honest? You know what I mean. Does it ache very badly?”
“N–no! Not a bit! I stayed behind because I preferred to—to talk to you,” said Hilary stoutly, wishing she could prevent herself blushing in such a ridiculous fashion, wishing Mr Rayner would not stare at her quite so fixedly; happy, miserable, discomfited, triumphant, all at the same moment, and in the most incomprehensible fashion.