And clapping his spurless heels to his pony he saluted and wheeled away through the hammock.
On the terrace Mrs. Cardross took his hands in her tremulous and pudgy fingers.
"Are you sure you are perfectly well, Garry? Don't you think it safer to begin at once with a mild dose of quinine and follow it every three hours with a—"
"Amy, dear!" murmured her husband, "I am not dreaming of interfering, but I, personally, never saw a finer specimen of physical health than this boy you are preparing to—be good to—"
"Neville, you know absolutely nothing sometimes," observed his wife serenely. Then looking up at the tall young man bending over her chair:
"You won't need as much as you required when you rode into the swamps every day, but you don't mind my prescribing for you now and then, do you, Garry?"
"I was going to ask you to do it," he said, looking at Cardross unblushingly. And at such perfidy the older man turned away with an unfeigned groan just as Cecile, tennis-bat in hand, came out from the hall, saw him, dropped the bat, and walked straight into his arms.
"Cecile," observed her mother mildly.
"But I wish to hug him, mother, and he doesn't mind."
Her mother laughed; Hamil, a trifle red, received a straightforward salute square on the mouth.