"I don't know," wailed the lady. "I don't understand him. I thought he cared for me--and he didn't even let me know he was here!" In spite of his anger with his erring parent, he was sufficiently master of his emotions to feel a lively concern at all this speech suggested. "I must get my breakfast," he observed icily, and was starting for the dining-room. She collected herself instantly. "Andrew!" she said, "you've got to go after him." He stared at her, first in extreme surprise, then with an exceedingly sophisticated smile. "Thank you, I've got my business to attend to." "You can go to the office first. There's a train about two." "I'll not be on it," he replied. "Some one's _got_ to go and fetch him back." "It won't be me." She looked at him for a moment with an expression which did not interest him. He neither professed to understand women nor to think it worth while trying. "Very well," she answered. They went in to breakfast, but throughout the meal she never referred to Heriot again. Andrew flattered himself he had choked her off _that_ subject. CHAPTER X While Andrew was still patiently waiting in London, a south-bound express swung down the long slope from Shap; past Oxenholme, past Milnthorpe, past Carnforth, out into the green levels of Lancashire. In one corner of a first-class carriage sat Jean Walkingshaw, her eyes smiling approval at that very paper which was to disturb her brother's serenity a few hours later. Her father sat opposite watching her. "Well, what do you think of it?" he inquired. "I think it's most amusing and--and--" "Spirited?" "Oh, very spirited!" she laughed. "In fact, I think it's a splendid speech." He seemed gratified. "Some fellows didn't seem to care for it," he observed. "They must have been very stupid, then!" "Old buffers generally are," he replied. "Some of the young chaps thought it first-rate, even though they were a little startled for the moment. Though why people should feel startled by anything so self-evident as my remarks beats me. Be hanged to them for silly idiots! Eh, Jean?" His momentary expression of chagrin made way for a merry smile, which set his daughter smiling gaily back. "If they disagree with you, father, they must be!" she laughed. They sat silent for a few minutes, Jean watching the green fields and trees and gates and walls rush past to join the jagged fells behind them, her father watching her. "It's awfully good of you taking me back with you," she said presently. "If it's a treat for you, you deserve it," he answered affectionately; "and if it's not--well, anyhow, it's pleasant for me having your company." "It is a treat for me, though I don't quite see what I've done to deserve it."