“We can plan better than that,” said Larry confidently, “but never mind just now. We shall settle that to-morrow.”
The journey home was given to the careful recital of news of Winnipeg, of the 'Varsity, and of mutual friends. It was like listening to the reading of a diary to hear Jane bring up to date the doings and goings and happenings in the lives of their mutual friends for the past year. Gossip it was, but of such kindly nature as left no unpleasant taste in the mouth and gave no unpleasant picture of any living soul it touched.
“Oh, who do you think came to see me two weeks ago? An old friend of yours, Hazel Sleighter. Mrs. Phillips she is now. She has two lovely children. Mr. Phillips is in charge of a department in Eaton's store.”
“You don't tell me,” cried Larry. “How is dear Hazel? How I loved her once! I wonder where her father is and Tom and the little girl. What was her name?”
“Ethel May. Oh, she is married too, in your old home, to Ben—somebody.”
“Ben, big Ben Hopper? Why, think of that kid married.”
“She is just my age,” said Jane soberly, glad of the dusk of the falling night. She would have hated to have Larry see the quick flush that came to her cheek. Why the reference to Ethel May's marriage should have made her blush she hardly knew, and that itself was enough to annoy her, for Jane always knew exactly why she did things.
“And Mr. and Mrs. Sleighter,” said Jane, continuing her narrative, “have gone to Toronto. They have become quite wealthy, Hazel says, and Tom is with his father in some sort of financial business. What is it, Papa?”
Dr. Brown suddenly waked up. “What is what, my dear? You will have to forgive me. This wonderful scenery, these hills here and those mountains are absorbing my whole attention. So wonderful it all is that I hardly feel like apologising to Mrs. Waring-Gaunt for ignoring her.”
“Don't think of it,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.