“I’m coming,” said Annie, resignedly. CHAPTER XVI. Annie soon found herself in a difficult position between the brother-in-law she liked and the husband she disliked. William was always wanting her to be out of doors with him, Harry teased her with sulky reproaches if she was away from him for more than half an hour at a time. The invalid came down to the drawing-room, which was well warmed and cheerful, on the second day after William’s arrival, leaning on his brother’s arm. The ascendency over him which Annie had gained in the sickroom she managed to maintain still; and the artless William would make gestures of admiration and astonishment at Harry’s docility to her from behind her husband’s back, and there was much unpleasantness on one or two occasions when his brother caught him. William also made himself obnoxious by calling Harry “the Ogre,” sometimes out of hearing of his elder brother and sometimes within, and by assuming an intimate knowledge of Annie’s movements during the four years of her absence from the Grange, which Harry of course did not possess. In these early days of her return Annie put off questions about the way in which she had occupied those four years, and left Harry to imagine that she had supported herself by teaching. Her skill in conversational fence being much greater than that of either of her companions, she could always lead the talk into what channel she would; but it was growing a delicate matter to avoid collision between Harry and William, each of whom considered himself to have an exclusive right to her attention, when the situation was changed by the arrival on the same day, though not by the same train, of Wilfred and Sir George. William was dispatched by Annie to Beckham in the dog-cart to meet his eldest brother, and, when he was gone, Harry, who, under his wife’s care, was getting rapidly through his convalescence, fidgeted about the room, and at last knocked over a gypsy-table covered with trifles. “All right, Harry; I’ll pick them up,” said Annie, hearing a muttered oath from her husband. “What are you in such a hurry for? I do hate a woman to be in a hurry,” said he, testily, noticing unusual haste in his wife’s movements as she knelt on the floor gathering up the things his clumsiness had scattered. “It is getting very late, and I must dress for dinner now George is coming back.” Harry flung himself into a chair and scowled at her. “Oh, all this fuss for George! Your appearance didn’t matter for me, I suppose? I’m only your husband!” “My dear Harry, if you will take the trouble to think you will see that, as, since you have been ill, you have not had late dinner, I have not insulted you by changing my gown to see you eat toast and mutton-broth in your dressing-gown. Besides, I should like to hide the falling off in my looks which you were kind enough to tell me of from George, who will not hurt my vanity by mentioning it, if he does notice any great change.”