"Catch me wasting a whole day playing tennis," said Geoffrey. "I'm as keen on a game as any one in the afternoon, but I am not going to be glued to one little patch of grass all day." "Of course not," put in Edward; "your favourite form of amusement we all know nowadays, is to lie flat on your back on a dusty road tinkering at your old motor-bike." "And yours, apparently, to try and be funny at the expense of your elders and betters," retorted Geoffrey. "Say much more, young man, and I'll take you out in the trailer." "Oh, but I wish you would, Geoffrey." "Not much. The mater says she can't spare any of us yet, and certainly not the "Hope of His Side." So trot away to your Latin essays, my son, and don't waste time in idling like the rest of us." "As a matter of fact, I'm going down to the cricket-ground with Tommy to practice at the nets a bit with the professional," said Edward, nettled at the imputation that he was going to spend the morning indoors. He was not vain of his brains, but he was of his cricket, and though wild horses would not have dragged from him the confession that he read Greek for pleasure long after he ought to have been asleep, he would brag of his batting averages to any one who would listen. At that moment a maid entered the room and approached Margaret. "If you please, Miss," she said, "the mistress says, will you wait for her in the morning-room. She will be down in a moment, and wishes to speak to you before you go out." Margaret jumped up at once, glad of an excuse to leave the room, for though she had finished her breakfast long before any of the others, she had been too shy to rise and go away. Besides, she had not the least idea where she ought to go, or what she ought to do. "No need for you to hurry, Miss Carson," Maud called after her. "Mother's minutes generally mean hours." And in that Maud proved to have been right, for an hour and a quarter passed before Mrs. Danvers made her belated appearance in the morning-room. But as there was a goodly supply of magazines and illustrated papers, Margaret did not find the time hang heavily on her hands. Truth to say, she was glad to be alone, and the knowledge that such was the case depressed her very much. She had looked forward to the society of other young people as the greatest happiness earth could give her, and it was discouraging to find that the realisation of her wish was as yet bringing her very little pleasure. She felt awkward and terribly shy in their company, and she had an uneasy consciousness that they looked upon her as a poor sort of creature, and very uninteresting--what, in short, she said sadly to herself, for she was already picking up some of their expressions--they would have called a bore. When at last Mrs. Danvers did make her appearance she was full of apologies for having kept Margaret waiting so long. "You must blame the cook, my dear," she said cheerily, "not me. Oh, dear, I am glad to sit down!"