Colonel Raymond’s temper at lunch that day bordered on the diabolical, and when he savagely announced that he should take the children for a walk afterward, the hearts of those unfortunate infants sank in their shoes. They well knew what kind of an afternoon was in store for them. While on the level they would be able to keep up, but they knew from experience that when their father was in the state of mind which Mrs. Raymond referred to in their presence as “looking worried” that their way would be dark and slippery, and that their father would march up the steep sides of the downs as if he was storming a breach. Long before the most active of them was half-way up he would be there, and he would revile them with marrowy and freezing expressions. Then as soon as their aching legs had scaled the summit he would be off again, and ten minutes later the same scene would be re-enacted with the same trembling and breathless mutes. Occasionally, on the worst days, he would take one by the hand and--“he called it helping”--drag her along in a grasp of iron. Poor Mrs. Raymond always looked more than usually insignificant when her husband was looking worried, but when things were very bad indeed sometimes a strange sort of recklessness came over her. If you can imagine a mouse or some soft feathered bird in a reckless humour, you will have some picture of Mrs. Raymond when the Colonel was looking worried. She had asked him some question about where he had been this morning, and had been treated to a reply of this kind: “Where have I been? Did you ask where I have been, Constance? You are devoured by curiosity--devoured; and it would be better if you tried to check it sometimes. But I’ll tell you--oh, I’ll tell you. I’ve been hanging about Bolton Street all morning, and not one of those infernal aristocrats had a word to say to me.” “Do you mean the Aveshams, Robert?” asked his wife. “Yes, I mean the Aveshams, and why shouldn’t I mean the Aveshams? Eh?” “I don’t suppose they recognised you.” “Not recognised me? I tell you, they cut me. Cut me, Constance. Blood is thicker than water--thicker than water--and it’s a motto that I’ve always stuck to myself, and it would be a good thing if others did the same.” Then Mrs. Raymond began to be reckless. “You’re not a very near relative, Robert,” she said, in her meaningless voice. “Not a near relation?” stormed her husband. “Do you mean to put me in my place? Confound it all, your brother-in-law’s sister, your sister-in-law in fact, indeed my sister-in-law, was the late Lady Avesham. If we don’t hang together it’s the ruin of England!” Mrs. Raymond’s recklessness increased. “If I were you I shouldn’t go about talking of the Aveshams as your relatives, particularly now they’ve come to live in the town,” she said; “it will only make people laugh.” The Colonel glared at her a moment; he could literally not find words. “Anything else, madam, anything else?” he asked at length.