He wondered what time she would arrive. He had known, but he had forgotten. He believed it was to be some time in the evening. Her grand friends had arranged to stay at Great Mallowes, three miles, away for the night, and one of them--the maid probably--was to bring Dinah home. He had smiled over this arrangement, and Lydia had openly scoffed at it. As if a girl of Dinah's age were not capable of travelling alone! But then of course she had been ill, very ill according to all accounts; and it was quite decent of them to bestow so much care upon her.
He fell to wondering if the child had got spoilt at all during her long absence from home and the harsh discipline thereof. If so, there was a hard time before her; for Lydia was never one to stand any nonsense. She had always been hard on her first-born, unreasonably hard, he sometimes thought; though it was not his business to interfere. The task of chastising the daughter of the family was surely the mother's exclusive prerogative; and certainly Lydia had carried it out very thoroughly. And if at times he thought her over-severe, he could not deny that the result achieved was eminently satisfactory. Dinah was always docile and active in his service--altogether a very good child; and this was presumably due to her mother's training. No, on the whole he had not much fault to find with either of them. Doubtless Lydia understood her own sex best.
He was nearing the end of the long lane; it terminated close to his home. Rupert quickened his pace. They were both splashed with mud from shoulder to heel. They had both had more than enough of the wet and the slush.
"That's right, Rupert, my boy!" the man murmured. "Finish in style!"
They came out from beneath the over-arching trees, emerging upon the high road that led from Great Mallowes to Perrythorpe. The hoot of a motor-horn caused Rupert to prick his ears, and his master reined him back as two great, shining head-lights appeared round a curve. They drew swiftly near, flashed past, and were gone meteor-like into the gloom.
"Whose car was that, I wonder?" mused Bathurst.
"The de Vignes's? It didn't look like one of the Court cars, but the old bird is always buying something new. Lucky devil!"
The thought of the Colonel renewed his thoughts of Dinah. Certain hints the former had dropped had made him wonder a little if the child were always as demure as she seemed. Not that Colonel de Vigne had actually found fault with her. He was plainly fond of her. But he had not spoken as if Dinah had effaced herself as completely abroad as she did at home.