'Dr. Heriot, what do you mean by treating Aunt Milly so stiffly? of course we shall have tea in the den, as usual.' But he interrupted her by a brief whisper in her ear, which made her laugh and clap her hands. Evidently there was some delightful secret between them, for Polly's eyes sparkled as she stood holding his arm with both hands; and even Dr. Heriot's twinkled with amusement.
'Miss Lambert, Polly wants to know if you can keep a secret? I don't think you look dangerous, so you shall be shown the mystery of the den.'
'Does Olive know?' asked Mildred, looking at the girl as she sat hunching her shoulders, as usual, over a book.
'Yes, but she does not approve. Olive never approves of anything nice,' returned Polly, saucily. 'Let us go very quietly; he generally whistles so loudly that he never hears anything;' and as Polly softly opened the door, very clear, sweet whistling was distinctly audible.
There was a little glass-house beyond the cosy room they were entering; and there, amongst flowers and canaries, and gaily-striped awning, in his old blue cricketing coat, was Roy painting.
Dr. Heriot beckoned Mildred to come nearer, and she had ample leisure to admire the warm sunshiny tints of a small landscape, to which he was putting finishing touches, until the melodious whistling ceased, and an exclamation of delight from Polly made him turn round.
'Aunt Milly, this is too bad; you have stolen a march on me;' and Roy's fair face was suffused for a moment. 'I owe Dr. John a grudge for this,' threatening him with his palette and brush.
Polly could not resist the pleasure of showing her aunt the mysteries of Bluebeard's den. 'When you miss your boy, you will know where to find him in future, Miss Lambert.'
'Roy, dear, you must not be vexed. I had no idea Polly's secret had anything to do with you,' said Mildred, gently. 'Dr. Heriot is very good to allow you to make use of this pleasant studio.'
Roy's brow cleared like magic.