Here, Chriss falling upon the book, the drawling monotone was quenched, and a sharp scuffle ensued, in which Royal made his escape, betaking himself during the remainder of the day to his glass studio and the society of congenial canaries.
The day was intensely hot; Olive's headache had yielded at last to Mildred's treatment, but she seemed heavy and languid and dragged herself with difficulty to the dinner-table, shocking every one but Richard with her altered appearance.
Richard had so far recovered his temper that he had made up his mind with some degree of magnanimity to ignore (at least outwardly) what had occurred. He kissed Olive coolly when she entered, and hoped, somewhat stiffly, that her head was better; but he took no notice of the yearning look in the dark eyes raised to his, though it haunted him long afterwards, neither did he address her again; and Mildred was distressed to find that Olive scarcely touched her food, and at last crept away before half the meal was over, with the excuse that her head was aching again, but in reality unable to bear the chill restraint of her brother's presence.
Mildred found her giddy and confused, and yet unwilling to own herself anything but well, and with a growing sense of despondency and hopelessness that made her a trying companion for a hot afternoon. She talked Mildred and herself into a state of drowsiness at last, from which the former was roused by hearing Ethel Trelawny's voice on the terrace below.
Mildred was thankful for any distraction, and the sight of the tall figure in the riding-habit, advancing so gracefully to meet her, was especially refreshing, though Ethel accosted her with unusual gravity, and hoped she would not be in the way.
'Papa has ridden over to Appleby, and will call for me on his return. I started with the intention of going with him, but the afternoon is so oppressive that I repented of my determination; will you give me a cup of tea instead, Mildred?'
'Willingly,' was the cheerful answer; and as she gave the order, Ethel seated herself on the steps leading down to the small smooth-shaven croquet-lawn, and, doffing her hat and gauntlets, amused herself with switching the daisy-heads with her jewelled riding-whip until Mildred returned.
'Is Olive better?' she asked abruptly, as Mildred seated herself beside her with needlework.
Mildred looked a little surprised as she answered, but a delicately-worded question or two soon showed her that Ethel was not entirely ignorant of the state of the case. She had met Richard in the town on the previous day, and, startled at his gloomy looks, had coaxed him, though with great difficulty, to accompany her home.
'It was not very easy to manage him in such a mood, continued Ethel, with her crisp laugh. 'I felt, as we were going up the Crofts, as though I were Una leading her lion. He was dumb all the way; he contrived a roar at the end, though—we were very nearly having our first quarrel.'