Audrey had no idea that her cousin had guessed her little secret--that he was smiling over it as he unfolded his paper. Her conscience was perfectly easy with regard to her motives. Pure compassion for those two poor children was her only inducement. There was no danger of encountering the elder brother. The windows of the great schoolroom opened on the terrace, and as Audrey had passed to gather her flowers she had had a glimpse of a dark, closely-cropped head, and the perfect profile that she had admired last night, and she knew the new master would be fully occupied all the morning. Audrey felt a little needle-prick of unavailing compunction as she remembered her allusion to the Greek god yesterday. 'I wish I were not so foolishly outspoken!' she thought. 'I always say just what comes into my head. With some people it would not matter--with Michael, for example. He never misunderstands one's meaning. But poor dear Gage is so literal. Clever as she is, she has no sense of humour.' Here she paused at the grocer's to give her orders, but directly she left the shop she took up the same thread again: 'I am always making resolutions to be more careful, but it never seems any use. The thoughts will come tumbling out like ill-behaved children just let out of school. There is no keeping them in order. I fancy Mr. Blake is outspoken, too, when he gets rid of his shyness. I was so surprised when he blurted out that little bit about his brother. He looked so sad over it, too. I think I must have made a mistake in supposing that he only cared for his mother. It was odd to make me his confidante; but, then, people always do tell me things. He is Irish, of course. Irishmen are always impulsive.' But here another list of orders to be given at the ironmonger's checked these vague musings. Audrey was fully expected at the Cottage. She had hardly lifted the latch of the gate before Mollie appeared in the doorway. 'I knew you would come,' she said shyly, as Audrey kissed her and put the flowers in her hands. 'Oh what lovely flowers! Are they for mamma, Miss Ross? Thank you ever so much! Mamma is so passionately fond of flowers, and so is Cyril.' 'And not Kester?' 'Oh yes; he loves them too,' burying her face in the delicious blossoms--'roses especially; they are his favourite flowers. But, of course, no one thinks of sending them to Kester; he is only a boy.' 'And I daresay you like them, too?' Mollie vehemently nodded assent. 'Well, then, I shall bring you and Kester some next time. You are right in thinking those are for your mother. May I go in and speak to her?--for we have to be very busy, you know.' 'Mamma is not up yet,' returned Mollie; and as Audrey looked surprised, she added quickly: 'She and Cyril sat up so late last night. She was wanting to hear all about his evening, and it was such a lovely night that they were in the garden until nearly twelve o'clock, and so, of course, she is tired this morning.'