It was plain to her that, whatever might be the subject of the thoughts which were agitating his mind, she had no share in them.

So she let him pass out, and then crept back, downcast, shocked, ashamed, up the slope to the house.

She got in by the billiard-room, at the window of which she knocked.  Max, her brother, who was playing a game with Queenie, his younger sister, let her in, and cried out at sight of her white face: 

“Hello!  Doreen, what’s up?  Had a row with Dudley?  Or what?”

“I have had no ‘row’ with any one,” answered the girl, very quietly.  “But—­you must all know all about it presently, so you may as well hear it at once—­Dudley has gone away.”

“What?”

Max stopped in the act of trying for a carom, and stared at his sister.

“Why, he only came when I did, ten minutes ago!”

“He’s gone, I tell you!” repeated Doreen, stamping her foot.  “And—­and listen, Max, I’m frightened about him!  He’s got something on his mind.  When he went away, I saw him; I was standing by the gate; he looked so—­so dreadful that I didn’t dare to speak to him. I! Think of that!”

“Had papa been speaking to him?” put in the shrewd younger sister, who was chalking her cue at the other end of the room.

The younger sister always sees most of the game.

“Ye—­es, but—­I don’t know—­I hardly think it was that,” answered Doreen quickly.  “At any rate, Max, I want you to do this for me; I want you to go up to town to-morrow and see him.  I shan’t rest until I know he’s—­he’s all right—­after what I saw of his face and the look on it.  Now, you will do this, won’t you, won’t you?  Without saying anything to anybody, mind.  Queenie, you can hold your tongue, too.  Now, Max, there’s a dear, you’ll do it, won’t you?”

Max told her that she was “off her head,” that he could do no good, and so on.  But he ended in giving way to the will of his handsome sister, whom he adored.

Max Wedmore was a good-looking fellow of five-and-twenty, with a reputation as a ne’er-do-weel, which, perhaps, he hardly deserved.  His father had a great idea of bringing the young man up to some useful calling to keep him out of mischief.  Not very terrible mischief, for the most part:  only the result of too much leisure and too much money in inexperienced hands.  The upshot of this difference of opinion between father and son was that while Mr. Wedmore was always finding mercantile situations for his son, Max was always taking care to be thrown out of them after a few weeks, and taking a rest which was by no means well earned.

This errand of his sister’s was by no means unwelcome to him, since it took him back to town, where he could amuse himself better than he could in the country.

So, on the following morning, he found some sort of excuse to take him up, and started on his journey with the blessings of Doreen, and with very little opposition from his father, who was subdued and thankful to have got rid of Dudley with so little trouble.