“No; I was with MacEveril.”
“At billiards, I suppose!—and it’s very foolish of you, Oliver, for you know you can’t afford billiards.”
“I can’t afford anything, Janey, as it seems to me,” returned Oliver, kicking up the dust in the road as they walked along. “Billiards don’t cost much; it’s only the tables: anyway, MacEveril paid for all.”
“Has MacEveril talked any more about going away?”
“He talks of nothing else; is full of it,” answered Oliver. “His uncle says he is not to go; and old Paul stopped him at the first half-word, saying he could not be spared from the office. Dick says he shall start all the same, leave or no leave.”
“Dick will be very silly to go just now, when we are about to be so gay,” remarked Jane, “There’s the picnic coming off; and the dance at Mrs. Jacob Chandler’s; and no end of tea-parties.”
For just now the neighbourhood was putting on a spurt of gaiety, induced to it perhaps by the lovely summer sunshine. Oliver’s face wore a look of gloom, and he made no answer to Jane’s remark. Several matters, cross and contrary, were trying Oliver Preen; not the least of them that he seemed to make no way whatever with Miss Emma.
When we left school for the midsummer holidays that year, Mr. and Mrs. Todhetley were staying at Crabb Cot. We got there on Friday, the eleventh of June.
On the following Monday morning the Squire went to his own small sitting-room after breakfast to busy himself with his accounts and papers. Presently I heard him call me.
“Have you a mind for a walk, Johnny?”