“No, ma’am, I didn’t. I keep my eye on her pretty strict and shouldn’t encourage wild running or playing. I don’t let her play with other children. And she’s not one of those stumbling, falling children. I told him the only fall I ever knew of her having was a bit of a slip on a soft flower bed that had just been watered—to judge from the state her clothes were in. She had cried because she’s not used to such things, and I think she was frightened. But there wasn’t a scratch or a shadow of a bruise on her. Even that wouldn’t have happened if I’d been with her. It was when I was ill and my sister Anne took my place. Anne thought at first that she’d been playing with a little boy she had made friends with—but she found out that the boy hadn’t come that morning—” “A boy!” Andrews was sharp enough to detect a new and interested note. “What boy?” “She wouldn’t have played with any other child if I’d been there” said Andrews, “I was pretty sharp with Anne about it. But she said he was an aristocratic looking little fellow—” “Was he in Highland costume?” Feather interrupted. “Yes, ma’am. Anne excused herself by saying she thought you must know something about him. She declares she saw you come into the Gardens and speak to his Mother quite friendly. That was the day before Robin fell and ruined her rose-coloured smock and things. But it wasn’t through playing boisterous with the boy—because he didn’t come that morning, as I said, and he never has since.” Andrews, on this, found cause for being momentarily puzzled by the change of expression in her mistress’ face. Was it an odd little gleam of angry spite she saw? “And never has since, has he?” Mrs. Gareth-Lawless said with a half laugh. “Not once, ma’am,” answered Andrews. “And Anne thinks it queer the child never seemed to look for him. As if she’d lost interest. She just droops and drags about and doesn’t try to play at all.” “How much did she play with him?” “Well, he was such a fine little fellow and had such a respectable, elderly, Scotch looking woman in charge of him that Anne owned up that she hadn’t thought there was any objections to them playing together. She says they were as well behaved and quiet as children could be.” Andrews thought proper to further justify herself by repeating, “She didn’t think there could be any objection.” “There couldn’t,” Mrs. Gareth-Lawless remarked. “I do know the boy. He is a relation of Lord Coombe’s.” “Indeed, ma’am,” with colourless civility, “Anne said he was a big handsome child.” Feather took a small bunch of hothouse grapes from her breakfast tray and, after picking one off, suddenly began to laugh.