"Well, we are all very fond of you, anyway, child," he said easily; "as for the temper, you can't really help it, you know, and you'll grow out of it. I'm sure you try to, my dear." "But I don't try," cried poor Patricia wildly, "I haven't time, I don't know anything about it till it's there and then it's too late. I might just as well have flung that plate at Charlotte as at you to-day. I wonder Renata lets me go in the nursery." "No, no. You wouldn't be angry with a baby." She turned to him with a sort of exasperated patience. "That's just it. You don't any of you understand. It does not make any difference, why, who or where. It just comes. I _can't_ help it." She kicked her heel on the gravel fiercely. "Poor little Patricia," said Nevil gently. "I can only say we all love you just the same, and I believe you'll grow out of it." She changed suddenly and flung herself into his arms in a wild transport of tears and childish abandonment. He was in no wise taken aback and soothed her with adroitness born of practice. When she was calm again he sat with his arm round her talking of indifferent things till a clock somewhere near struck three. "They should be here directly," he said, but made no effort to rise. "Would Aymer really mind being met?" she questioned. "He'd rather be left to Vespasian and Tollens." Tollens was the old butler. "Won't he ever get used to it?" "He is afraid of becoming an invalid if he gets hardened to it." "But he is, isn't he?" "Not a bit of it. He has perfectly wonderful health. He has massage and all sorts of things to keep him up to the mark. Aymer's as vain as a girl." "I don't call it vanity. I call it pluck." Nevil groaned, "Oh, you women, old and young! But you are right--and there are my father and Christopher himself." Christopher to his great joy had been allowed to drive down with Aymer and Mr. Aston, and had found the journey not one mile too long. Indeed towards the end his early curiosity as to the termination had evaporated and the mile-stones had come in sight and vanished all too quickly. It had been reassuring to find Vespasian awaiting them at the door with the old butler to whom he was formally introduced as Mr. Aymer's ward. Then having inquired of Tollens of the family's whereabouts, Mr. Aston bore off Christopher for further introductions. At the entrance to the garden on the long terrace and by the gate leading to the south garden he had paused and looked round with the slow comprehensive glance of one acquainted with every detail. He spoke nothing of his thoughts to Christopher, but the boy was quite acutely aware that Mr. Aston loved this place and was happy to see it again, while he calmly discussed the possibilities of fishing in the lake that lay below like a silver mirror in the clear sunlight.