'Who's been knocking you down now, Gotham?'
'No one, sir;—I 'ope I know my business better,' said Gotham.
'I speak of the h'inevitable. And Mr. Rollo would drive Miss
'Azel 'ome last night, and she gave me no better h'assistance
than one of her laughs, sir.' Clearly it rang in his ears yet.
'You had better not meddle with what don't belong to you, my friend. If Miss Hazel had desired your assistance, it would have been time enough to give it to her.'
'Very good, sir,—h'all settled, sir,'—and Gotham carried off the tray with a face of mixed perplexity and wisdom that was funny to see. But the sunshine crept on through the little study, and it was well-nigh time to set the table again, before the door opened softly and Wych hazel came in: two exquisite roses in her cheeks, in her hand—by way of excuse—a basket of wonderful hot-house grapes. How glad she had been to take them from Dingee at the door.
'Well, my dear!' said Mr. Falkirk, with an accent of unmistakeable pleasure, and something behind it, 'you have slept long to-day. Were you home so late?'
'I suppose it was late, sir. I lost no time, and so took no note. How do you do to-day, Mr. Falkirk?'
'Able to move, I think. I shall get about in a day or two more.'
'Here are some grapes, sir, to hasten the cure.' She put the basket in his hand, and passed on to a low seat at the head of the sofa. Mr. Falkirk looked at them, and his tone changed to the accustomed growl.
'Where are these from?'
'Major Seaton, I believe, is responsible,' said the girl carelessly.