"Oh, pray don't give yourself any trouble," she said, flushing, "I can walk to the village."
Helbeck paused.
"If you could wait till to-morrow," he said after a moment, "I could promise you the pony. Unfortunately he is busy this afternoon."
"Oh, do wait, Laura!" cried Augustina. "There is so much unpacking to do."
"Very well," said the girl unwillingly.
As she turned away from him Helbeck's look followed her. She was in a dress of black serge, which followed the delicate girlish frame with perfect simplicity, and was relieved at the neck and wrists with the plainest of white collars and cuffs. But there was something so brilliant in the hair, so fawnlike in the carriage of the head, that she seemed to Helbeck to be all elegance; had he been asked to describe her, he would have said she was in grande toilette. Little as he spoke to her, he found himself perpetually conscious of her. Her evident—childishly evident—dislike of her new surroundings half amused, half embarrassed him. He did not know what topic to start with her; soon, perhaps, he might have a difficulty in keeping the peace! It was all very absurd.
After luncheon they gathered in the hall for a while, Father Bowles talking eagerly with Helbeck and Augustina about "orphans" and "new buildings." Laura stood apart awhile—then went for her hat.
When she reappeared, in walking dress—with Fricka at her heels—Helbeck opened the heavy outer door for her.
"May I have Bruno?" she said.
Helbeck turned and whistled.