The cloudy look had not left Geoff's face when he came into the drawing-room. But, alas! it was nothing new to see him "looking like that." His mother took no notice of it.
"Well, Geoff?" she said pleasantly. "How have you got on to-day, my boy?"
He muttered something indistinctly, which sounded like, "Oh, all right;" then catching sight of Elsa's reproachful face, he seemed to put some constraint on himself, and, coming forward to his mother, kissed her affectionately.
"Are you very tired to-night, mamma?" he said. "Must I not speak to you?"
Mrs. Tudor was very tired, and she knew by old experience what Geoff's "speaking" meant—an hour or more's unmitigated grumbling, and dragging forward of every possible grievance, to have each in turn talked over, and sympathized about, and smoothed down by her patient hand. Such talks were not without their effect on the boy; much that his mother said appealed to his good sense and good feeling, though he but seldom gave her the satisfaction of seeing this directly. But they were very wearing to her, and it was carrying motherly unselfishness too far to undertake such discussion with Geoff, when she was already worn out with unusual anxiety.
She smiled, however, brightly enough, in reply to his questions. It cheered her to see that he could consider her even thus much.
"Of course I can speak to you, Geoff. Have you anything particular to tell me?"
"Lots of things," said the boy. He drew forward a chair in which to settle himself comfortably beside his mother, darting an indignant glance at his sisters as he did so. "Humbugging me as usual about mamma—anything to keep me away from her," he muttered. But Elsa and Frances only glanced at each other in despair.
"Well," said Mrs. Tudor, resignedly, leaning back in her chair.
"Mamma," began Geoffrey, "there must be something done about my pocket-money. I just can't do with what I've got. I've waited to speak about it till I had talked it over with some of the other fellows. They nearly all have more than I."