Imogen did not “know,” but she scarcely felt as if she could ask for an explanation.
“That’s his way—any one in trouble, or helpless, or that he can be any good to, you see.”
“Yes,” said the girl, smiling, “I do see, for we were very helpless, and he was of great good to us.”
“No wonder,” said Oliver, feeling as if he were putting things rather awkwardly. “In this case his benevolence was certainly a pleasure.”
“Thank you,” said Imogen, laughing.
“But you see,” he went on, “in a general way, Rex isn’t at all a ladies’ man; he’s rather standoff and severe, and he’s got very, very particular ideas. I never dare stand up for him to my sisters. Not that he needs it, but they’d only make fun of me, you see. Trixie pretty nearly hates Rex, I do believe,” he added, almost in a whisper, “and Alicia can’t stand him. He’s down upon them both in their different ways, you see.”
“I have not spoken to Miss Helmont yet,” said Imogen, “but Trixie has been so kind to us. I can’t help thinking Major Winchester misunderstands her a little.”
Oliver drew his lips together almost as if he were going to whistle. Then he thought better of it, and turned the conversation from his youngest sister.
“I suppose it’s true what the parsons say,” he remarked. “People have much kinder feelings to others if they’ve had troubles themselves. Rex has had lots; his mother died when he was quite a young fellow, and he adored her; and then—”
“Has he no brothers and sisters—no one belonging to him?” asked the girl, eagerly.