Part 36 (2/2)

”I doubt it,” said Billy, unmoved. ”You see, the mater hasn't much use for Dinah, except as a maid-of-all work. Never has had. It's not altogether her fault. It's just the way she's made.”

”Good heavens!” said Scott, and added, as if to himself, ”That little fairy thing!”

”She can't help it,” said Billy. ”She can't get on with the female species. It's like cats, you know,--a sort of jealousy.”

”And your father?” questioned Scott, the hard look growing in his eyes.

”Oh, Dad!” said Billy, smiling tolerantly. ”He's all right--quite a decent sort. But you wouldn't get him to leave home in the middle of the hunting season. He's one of the Whips.”

Scott's hand had tightened unconsciously to a grip. Billy looked at him in surprised interrogation, and was amazed to see a heavy frown drawing the colourless brows. There was a fiery look in the pale eyes also that he had never seen before.

He waited in silence for developments, being of a wary disposition, and in a moment Scott spoke in a voice of such concentrated fury that Billy felt as if a total stranger were confronting him.

”An infernal and blackguardly shame!” he said. ”It would serve them right if the little girl never went back to them again. I never heard of such d.a.m.nable callousness in all my life before.”

Billy opened his eyes wide, and after a second or two permitted himself a soft whistle.

Scott's hold upon his arm relaxed. ”Yes, I know,” he said. ”I've no right to say it to you. But when the blood boils, you've got to let off the steam somehow. I suppose you've written to tell them all about her?”

”Oh yes, I wrote, and so did the Colonel. I had a letter from Dad this morning. He said he hoped she was better and that she was being well looked after. That's like Dad, you know. He never realizes a thing unless he's on the spot. I daresay I shouldn't myself,” said Billy broadmindedly. ”It's want of imagination in the main.”

”Or want of heart,” said Scott curtly.

Billy did not attempt to refute the amendment. ”It's just the way you chance to be made,” he said philosophically. ”Of course I'm fond of Dinah. We're pals. But Dad's an easy-going sort of chap. He isn't specially fond of anybody. The mater,--well, she's keen on me, I suppose,” he blushed a little; ”but, as I said before, she hasn't much use for Dinah. Even when she was a small kid, she used to whip her no end. Dinah is frightened to death at her. I don't wonder she doesn't want her sent for.”

Scott's face was set in stern lines. ”She certainly shall not be sent for,” he said with decision. ”The poor child shall be left in peace.”

”She is going to get better, isn't she?” said Billy quickly.

”I hope so, old chap. I hope so.” Scott patted his shoulder kindly and prepared to depart.

But Billy detained him a moment. ”I say, can't I come and see her?”

”Not now, lad.” Scott paused, and all the natural kindliness came back into his eyes. ”My sister was just getting her calm again when I came away. We won't disturb her now.”

”How is your sister, sir?” asked Billy. ”Isn't she feeling the strain rather?”

”No, she is standing it wonderfully. In fact,” Scott hesitated momentarily, ”I believe that in helping Dinah, she has found herself again.”

”Do you really?” said Billy. ”Then I do hope for her sake that Dinah will buck up and get well.”

”Thanks, old chap.” Scott held out a friendly hand. ”I'm sorry you're having such a rotten time. Come along to me any time when you're feeling bored! I shall be only too pleased when I'm at liberty.”

”You're a brick, sir,” said Billy. ”And I say, you'll send for me, won't you, if--if--” He broke off. ”You know, as I said before, Dinah and I are pals,” he ended wistfully.

”Of course I will, lad. Of course I will.” Scott wrung his hand hard.

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