And before she could say another word he had knocked at a door they were passing, and left her, taking off his hat in the most ordinary way. What did he mean? or was it nothing--some trifling quarrel he had got into with James? Miss Cherry walked the rest of the way home, alone indeed and undisturbed, but with a strange commotion in her mind. Was there something serious behind these vague threatenings, or was he only depressed and cross, like herself, from the troublesome influence of spring, and of this east-windy day? Meanwhile, Roger sat down in front of Cara’s fire, which was too warm, and made him uncomfortable--for he had been walking quickly, and he had no cold. He thought she looked pale, as she reclined in the big chair, with that fleecy white shawl round her, and he told her so frankly. ‘It is living in town that has done it,’ he said. ‘When you come back to the country you will soon be all right.’ ‘It is only a cold,’ said Cara. ‘I don’t know now when we shall go to the country. Aunt Cherry leaves us to-morrow.’ ‘But you are coming too? Yes, you are! Miss Charity told my mother so. In a few days----’ ‘Ah, that was before papa changed his plans; he is not going abroad now--so I stay at home,’ said Cara. The young man started up from his seat in the sudden sting of his disappointment. He was too unsophisticated to be able to control his feelings. Still, he managed not to swear or rave, as Nature suggested. ‘Good Heavens!’ was the only audible exclamation he permitted himself, which, to be sure, is merely a pious ejaculation; though a lower ‘Confound!’ came under his breath--but this Cara was not supposed to hear. ‘Home?’ he said, coming back after a walk to the window, when he had partially subdued himself. ‘I should have thought the Hill, where you have lived all your life, and where everybody cares for you, would have seemed more like _home_ than the Square.’ ‘Do not be cross, Roger,’ said Cara. ‘Why should you be cross?’ Something of the ease of conscious domination was in her treatment of him. She did not take the same high ground with Oswald or Edward; but this poor boy was, so to speak, under her thumb, and, like most superior persons, she made an unkind use of her power, and treated her slave with levity. ‘You look as if you meant to scold me. There is a little red here,’ and she put up her hand to her own delicate cheek, to show the spot, ‘which means temper, and it is not nice to show temper, Roger, especially with an old friend. I did not choose my home any more than my name. You might as well say you should have thought I would prefer to be May, rather than Cara.’ ‘It is you who are unkind,’ said the poor young fellow. ‘Oh, Cara, if you remember how we have played together, how long you have known me! and this is my last summer in England. In six months--less than six months--I shall be gone.’