‘Hullo!’ he exclaimed; ‘I really don’t want anything. But how awfully good of you, Soph, to take so much trouble.’ ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ said she coldly, and with the faintest vestige of a smile. ‘I very often get up at half-past five these summer mornings; and I’m glad of an excuse for having breakfast so early.’ They sat down together for a hurried meal, and Hubert began to talk in a more excited manner than was usual with him. Sophy, however, answered only by monosyllables. ‘How is my uncle to-day?’ he asked; ‘oh! I forgot; you can’t tell. I suppose he isn’t awake yet. He seemed rather depressed last night.’ ‘Perhaps it was the reaction after the excitement of your coming home. And I think he was hurt at your leaving again so soon,’ she added. She was angry at herself for having said this as soon as the words had left her lips; but Hubert did not seem to mind her. ‘I’ll be back in a day or two,’ he said, without looking up. Nothing more was said beyond the civilities of the table, till it was announced that the cab was at the door. Then Hubert started up in a fever to be gone. ‘Good-bye, Sophy; you may look for me in--oh! I’ll write, or wire, and let you know.’ ‘Good-bye, and a pleasant journey,’ she returned; but she did not offer to go into the hall to see him off. Hubert noticed the coldness of her manner. ‘Can I have offended her in any way?’ he said to himself. ‘Surely _she_ is not such a baby as to be annoyed at my leaving so soon. I told them I had a reason.’ Meantime Sophy, standing well back from the windows, watched her cousin get into his hansom. He looked back and waved his hand, but there was no response. ‘I fancy,’ he mused to himself as the cab drove off--‘I fancy girls in our rank of life get stiffer and more conventional every year. What harm would there have been, now, in Sophy coming to the door to see me off? I suppose it’s because she hasn’t a chaperon. It’s a pity when people allow themselves to be twisted out of shape by conventional rules. Somehow, girls in the lower classes seem far more natural, warmer hearted. I wonder if it is the fear of seeming improper that makes Margaret so cold in her manner. If it were not for that, she would be perfect--simply perfect.’ And a series of dreams began, which lasted till the dreamer reached Euston Square. Meantime Sophy, after fighting a successful battle with a rising flood of tears, set herself to begin, as patiently as she could, those important trifles which formed the occupation of her life. CHAPTER XIV. A TURNING-POINT. The hay-harvest was over, and the corn-harvest had not begun, so there was a comparatively ‘slack time’ at the farm. In a month, or less, every man and woman about the place, with probably two or three stray Irish labourers, would be busy with the sickle, or ‘binding,’ from early morning till late into the twilight; but for the present there was a period of repose.