'I don't believe I have had any message—have I, Audrey?' And Audrey laughed a little guiltily; she did not always remember people's messages.
Mrs. Blake shook her head at her.
'Oh, you traitress!' she exclaimed playfully. 'And I thought you, of all people, were to be trusted. Captain Burnett, I must give my own message. I want to thank you for your kindness to my poor boy.'
'He is not poor at all,' he replied lightly; but his keen blue eyes seemed to take the measure, mental and physical, of the graceful-looking woman before him. 'He is a very clever fellow, and will make his mark. I can assure you I quite envy him his brains.'
'It makes me so proud to hear you say that. I often wonder why my children are so clever; their father'—she checked herself, and then went on in a more subdued key—'my poor husband had only average talents, and as for me——' She left her sentence unfinished in a most expressive way.
'Mollie says you are clever too, Mrs. Blake.'
'My dear Miss Ross, then Mollie—bless her little heart!—is wrong. Is it my fault if those foolish children choose to swear by their mother? Cleverness does not consist in chattering a little French and Italian—does it, Captain Burnett? You and I know better than that, and it will always be a lasting wonder to me why I have a son like my Cyril.'
'You have two sons, Mrs. Blake.'
Something indefinable in Michael's tone made Mrs. Blake redden for a moment; then she recovered herself.
'Yes, thank God! I have; but a widow's eldest son is always her prop. Kester is a mere boy; he cannot help his mother much yet.'