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Page 6
The two young men fell into attitudes of mock dismay. Nora took a
chocolate from a box.
"Be merciful, Miss Nora!" Harrison pleaded tearfully.
"Don't break the regiment up altogether," Somerfield begged, with a
little catch in his voice.
"All very well for you two to be funny," Nora went on, revisiting
the chocolate box, "but you've heard about the Seaforths coming,
haven't you? I adore kilts, and so does Helen; don't you, Helen?"
"Every woman does," Helen admitted, smiling. "I suppose the child
really can keep the hat, can't she?" she added, turning to the
Commandant.
"Officially the matter is outside my cognizance," he declared. "I
shall have nothing to say."
The two young men exchanged glances.
"A hat," Somerfield ruminated, "especially a Homburg hat, is scarcely
an appurtenance of warfare."
His brother officer stood for a moment looking gravely at the object
in question. Then he winked at Somerfield and sighed.
"I shall take the whole responsibility," he decided magnanimously,
"of saying nothing about the matter. We can't afford to quarrel
with Miss Nora, can we, Somerfield?"
"Not on your life," that young man agreed.
"Sensible boys!" Nora pronounced graciously.
"Thank you very much, Captain Griffiths, for not encouraging them
in their folly. You can take me as far as the post-office when
you go, Arthur," she continued, turning to the fortunate possessor
of the side-car, "and we'll have some golf to-morrow afternoon, if
you like."
"Won't Mr. Somerfield have some tea?" Helen invited.
"Thank you very much, Miss Fairclough," the man replied; "we had
tea some time ago at Watson's, where I found Miss Nora."
Nora suddenly held up her finger. "Isn't that the car?" she asked.
"Why, it must be mummy, here already. Yes, I can hear her voice!"
Griffiths, who had moved eagerly towards the window, looked back.
"It is Lady Cranston," he announced solemnly.
CHAPTER II
The woman who paused for a moment upon the threshold of the library,
looking in upon the little company, was undeniably beautiful. She
had masses of red-gold hair, a little disordered by her long
railway journey, deep-set hazel eyes, a delicate, almost
porcelain-like complexion, and a sensitive, delightfully shaped
mouth. Her figure was small and dainty, and just at that moment she
had an appearance of helplessness which was almost childlike. Nora,
after a vigorous embrace, led her stepmother towards a chair.
"Come and sit by the fire, Mummy," she begged. "You look tired and
cold."
Philippa exchanged a general salutation with her guests. She was
still wearing her travelling coat, and her air of fatigue was
unmistakable. Griffiths, who had not taken his eyes off her since
her entrance, wheeled an easy-chair towards the hearth-rug, into
which she sank with a murmured word of thanks.
"You'll have some tea, won't you, dear?" Helen enquired.
Philippa shook her head. Her eyes met her friend's for a moment
--it was only a very brief glance, but the tragedy of some mutual
sorrow seemed curiously revealed in that unspoken question and
answer. The two young subalterns prepared to take their leave.
Nora, kneeling down, stroked her stepmother's hand.
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