‘What did they mean?  What was it about?’

She hesitated a little.

’I daresay your opinion was correct, Mr. Falkirk, as to the meaning as well as the buzz.  It is hardly worth bringing up again.’

If Mr. Falkirk had any roughness in his manner or in his composition, he had also and certainly a very gentle side of it for his ward.  He looked at her again and dropped the subject.  But he had got another.  He waited a little before bringing it up.

’Another thing I heard confused my ideas, Miss Hazel.  You must not wonder at me; you know, a bear just out of winter quarters might well be astonished at coming into a garden full of crickets, and a little unable to distinguish one song from another.  But it seemed to me that I heard something said—­or alluded to—­about your being unwillingly obliged to go home from somewhere.  Can you give me any explanation?’

The pause was longer this time, the colour unsteady.  Then she put both hands up to her forehead, pushing back the dark rings of hair with an impatient touch, and began, speaking low and rapidly, but straight to the point.

’I was invited to a garden party at Mrs. Powder’s, and after I got there, found out that the invitation included a four-in-hand drive to Greenbush.  And I went.  And Mr. Rollo heard of my going, and followed me there with Primrose and Reo and the carriage, and made me come back.’—­She had gone on, throwing in details, as if to prevent their being called for.  Now the scarlet flush with which the last words were spoken faded away, and she was silent and rather pale.

I suppose Mr. Falkirk had done his breakfast.  If not, he lost the last part of it.  For as Wych Hazel stopped speaking he rose from the table and began to take turns up and down the room; scowling, it must be confessed, as if he would have rather liked an excuse to ‘pitch into’ his co-guardian.  He said nothing for some minutes, and it was not necessary; his eyebrows were eloquent.

‘A four-in-hand party!’ he said at last.  ‘Who got it up?’

‘Some of the four-in-hand club.’

‘Who are they, Miss Hazel?’

’Mr. May, Captain Lancaster, Dr. Singleton,’—­Hazel named over sundry names that were unknown to Mr. Falkirk.

‘He’s a bold man!’ said Mr. Falkirk, probably not referring to any member of the club aforesaid.  ’I wonder at his impudence.  But, my dear!—­a four-in-hand party, and Greenbush at night,—­ that was no sort of place for you to be!  Do you know how these parties come home, who go out so bravely?’

‘I knew pretty well, sir, how my party would,’ said his ward.

’No you didn’t.  How should you know anything about it?  The young mouse in the fable thought the cat was a very fine gentleman.  Con—­found him!’ said Mr. Falkirk, stopping short, ’how did he know?  Was he at the garden party at the Governor’s?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Then how did he know where you were?’