Part 41 (1/2)

There was in his tone a touch of malice that caught Dinah very oddly, like the flick of a lash intended for another. She awoke very suddenly to the realization of Scott sitting near Isabel with the light s.h.i.+ning on his pale face and small, colourless beard. How insignificant he looked!

And yet the narrow shoulders had an independent set about them as though they were not without a certain strength.

The smile still lingered about his lips as he made quiet rejoinder. ”It sometimes needs a philosopher to tell what is the best.”

Eustace gave an impatient shrug. ”The philosopher is not always a wise man,” he observed briefly.

”But seldom an utter fool,” returned Scott.

The elder brother's face was contemptuous as he said, ”A philosopher may recognize what is best, but it is seldom within his reach.”

”And so, being a philosopher, he does without it.” Scott spoke thoughtfully; he was gazing straight before him.

Isabel suddenly leaned forward. ”He is not always the loser, Stumpy,” she said.

He looked at her. ”Certainly a man can't lose what he has never had,” he said.

”Every man has his chance once,” she insisted.

”And--if he's a philosopher--he doesn't take it,” laughed Eustace. ”Don't you know, my dear Isabel, that that is the very cream and essence of philosophy?”

She gave him a swift look that was an open challenge. ”What do you know of philosophy and the greater things of life?” she said.

He looked momentarily surprised. Dinah saw the ready frown gather on his handsome face; but before he could speak Scott intervened.

”How on earth did we get onto this abstruse subject?” he said easily.

”Miss Bathurst will vote us all a party of bores, and with reason. What were we talking about before? Iced cake, wasn't it? Are you a cook Miss Bathurst?”

”I can make some kinds of cakes,” Dinah said modestly, ”but I like making pastry best. I often make sausage-rolls for Dad to take hunting.”

”That sounds more amusing for him than for you,” observed Eustace.

”Oh no, I love making them,” she a.s.sured him. ”And he always says he likes mine better than anyone's. But I'm not a particularly good cook really. Mother generally does that part, and I do all the rest.”

”All?” said Isabel.

”Yes. You see, we can't afford to keep a servant,” said Dinah. ”And I groom Rupert--that's the hunter--too, when Billy isn't at home. I like doing that. He's such a beauty.”

”Do you ever ride him?” asked Eustace.

She shook her head. ”No. I'd love to, of course, but there's never any time. I can't spend as long as I like over grooming him because there are so many other things. But he generally looks very nice,” she spoke with pride; ”quite as nice as any of the de Vignes's horses.”

”You must have a very busy time of it,” said Scott.

”Yes.” Dinah's bright face clouded a little. ”I often wish I had more time for other things; but it's no good wis.h.i.+ng. Anyway, I've had my time out here, and I shall never forget it.”

”You must come out again with us,” said Isabel.

Dinah beamed. ”Oh, how I should love it!” she said. ”But--” her face fell again--”I don't believe mother will ever spare me a second time.”

”All right. I'll run away with you in the yacht,” said Eustace. ”Come for a trip in the summer!”