"Guess, guess!" broke in Nell impatiently.
Dick smiled contemptuously.
"Some conceited clown to lecture in the schoolroom?" he said. "We know
you of old, my dear Nell. Is there to be any tea this afternoon?"
"Clown!" retorted Nell scornfully. "Really, I've a good mind not to tell
you until he--he comes himself."
"He--who? I must ask you to restrain your excitement, Eleanor. My nerves
are in a very sad condition to-day, and I cannot--I really cannot bear
any mental strain."
"It's Mr. Drake Vernon," said Nell, more soberly.
Dick uttered the yell of a rejoicing red Indian; and Mrs. Lorton slid
into an upright position with incredible rapidity.
"Mr. Vernon! Go on, you're joking, Nell!" cried Dick; "and yet you look
pleased enough for it to be true! Mr. Vernon! Hurrah! Sorry, mamma, but
my feelings, which usually are under perfect control----"
"Is my hair tidy, Eleanor? Take this eau de Cologne away. Where is he?
Did you think to bring a tea cake for tea? No, of course not; you think
of nothing, nothing! I sometimes wonder why you have not imitated some
of the Wolfer tact and readiness."
"I met Mr. Vernon on the moor, away from the village. I will make some
toast. He is coming up presently. He is going to stay at the
Brownies'--this is my best hat. Do be careful!"
For Dick, in his joy, had fallen against her in the passage and nearly
knocked her hat off; then he seized her by the arm, and, fixing her with
a gaze of exaggerated keenness, demanded in melodramatic tones, but too
low for Mrs. Lorton to hear: "What means this sudden and strange return of the interesting stranger?
Speak, girl! Attempt not to deceive; subterfuge will not avail ye! Say,
what means this unexpected appearance? Ah! why that crimson blush which
stains your nose----"
Nell broke from him--half ashamedly, for was she, indeed, blushing?--and
ran to make the toast, and Dick went to the gate to watch for Drake.
Drake found the Brownies expecting him, and was shown the tiny sitting
room and bedroom they had hastily prepared; and, his luggage having
arrived, he had a wash and a change.
And as he dried himself on the lavender-scented towel, he invented an
excuse for his return. He was filled with a strange gladness; the surge
of the waves as they beat against the jetty sang a welcome to him; he
could hear the fishermen calling to each other, as they cleaned their
boats, or whistling as they sat on the jetty spreading their nets to
dry; it was more like coming back to his birthplace, or some spot in
which he had lived for years, than to the little seaside village which
he had seen for the first time a few weeks ago.