Part 18 (2/2)

”I'm sorry,” he apologized simply.

d.i.c.k regarded him with an ironical grin. ”I'll have to ring for another,” he said.

Andrew wondered how much Elsie understood; and he was not deceived by her unchanged expression. Elsie was quick and did not always show her feelings.

”You made some brilliant strokes, but your play's a bit erratic,”

Williamson said to d.i.c.k. ”It might be worth your while to study some of the good professionals. That reminds me, there's an interesting semi-private match next Thursday, and I've friends at the club.”

He mentioned two players whom Andrew had heard of, and the door opened while he added something about the match. Andrew was watching his cousin and did not look up, and it was a few moments later when he saw that Staffer had come in.

”I've been suggesting that d.i.c.k should come to town to-morrow,”

Williamson said. ”I can show him some good billiards.”

”I can't stop him, although I imagine he'd better stay at home,”

Staffer answered with a smile. ”As he has been warned to keep regular hours and that sort of thing, it's possible that the excursion might not be good for him. d.i.c.k's rather too keen a sportsman.”

Andrew could find no obvious fault with Staffer's reply. On the surface, it was tactful; but something in his manner made it inciting instead of deterrent.

”You arranged to take us snipe-shooting on Wednesday,” he reminded his cousin.

”So I did,” d.i.c.k admitted. ”Still, we could fix another day. We might get a woodc.o.c.k if we waited a bit.”

”I'm keen on snipe,” Whitney interposed. ”Besides, we're going down the coast again at the end of the week.”

Staffer gave him a quick glance and d.i.c.k seemed to hesitate.

”That makes a difference; but you could go without me. I'm not a crack shot.”

”You know all about snipe, and where to find a c.o.c.k,” Andrew insisted.

”They ought to be here now and it's a long time since I bagged one.”

”Oh, well!” said d.i.c.k. ”You mustn't be disappointed, and we'll try to show Whitney the best sport we can.”

Elsie looked at Andrew and he saw that she was grateful; but Staffer came across to where he sat.

”I met Marshall, the salmon fisher, in Annan, and he mentioned that they had run the Burnfoot boats up this afternoon,” he said. ”There was a big surf last high-water, and he asked if you had been down to the yacht. It looked as if he thought you ought to go.”

Andrew turned to Whitney.

”Is the motorcycle all right, Jim?”

”Take the car,” suggested Staffer. ”Watson won't have housed her yet.”

They started in three or four minutes; but it was not the _Rowan_ that Andrew thought about as the big car throbbed at full speed through the dark. He had kept d.i.c.k at Appleyard, and Williamson would be gone to-morrow, which was something to the good, because d.i.c.k was apt to get out of hand when the man was there. Andrew thought he made rash bets with him, and he certainly drank more than usual. It was his duty to look after d.i.c.k; but it was getting harder to do so for Elsie's sake, and at times when he thought of his task in this light he had to master a feeling of bitterness. d.i.c.k was not good enough for Elsie.

Still, if she really loved him, she would be able to keep him straight. He knew the protective tenderness she felt for him. This might be different from the love she could give a lover; but Andrew would not follow up that line of thought. It might lead to false hopes and to shabby conduct of which he would always be ashamed.

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