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Updated: May 1, 2025
He had a score to settle with Raymond; but he regarded the latter now as a pitiful fellow not worth quarrelling with, and he hesitated, half-minded to let the matter drop without mentioning what was on his mind. Fosberton mistook the meaning of the other's averted glance.
Jack and Valentine set about collecting stones to build a fireplace, and there being plenty of dry driftwood about, they soon had a good blaze for boiling the water. The girls busied themselves unpacking the provisions; but Raymond Fosberton was content to sit on the bank and throw pebbles into the river.
The silver spoons and forks were all ornamented with the Fosberton crest a curious animal, apparently dancing on a sugar-stick. "What is it?" whispered Barbara to Jack. "The sea-cook's dog," answered her cousin. "But what's he doing?" "He's stolen the plum-duff, and the skipper's sent him up to ride on a boom, and he's got to stay there till he's told to come down."
It was only a cad like Raymond Fosberton would ever have thought of suggesting such a thing." "Appearances were very much against me, sir and well, it's all past and done with now." Valentine was silent. That "sir," so familiar to his ear, and yet seemingly so incongruous in the present instance, baffled him completely.
In outward appearance, to a casual observer, Jack had altered very little since the day when he knocked Master Raymond Fosberton into the laurel bush; yet there was a change. He had broadened, and grown to look older, and more of a man, though the old impatient look seemed to have deepened in his face like the lines between his eyebrows.
One afternoon, when the boys were lying reading in the tent, Barbara suddenly appeared in the open doorway, and stamping her foot, cried, "Bother!" "What's up with you, Bar?" "Why, that wretched Raymond Fosberton is in the house talking to Aunt Mab. He's walked over from Grenford; and he is going to stay the night." Valentine groaned, and Jack administered a kick to an unoffending camp-stool.
"I have received a letter from your uncle," began Mr. Westford, "asking for you to be allowed to go and meet him at the station this afternoon at five o'clock. He wishes also to see Rosher, so you can tell him that he may go. Be back, of course, in time for supper." "I wonder what brings Uncle Fosberton to Melchester," said Valentine to Jack as they walked away together.
A boy was lounging about in front of the porch, with his hands in his pockets, kicking gravel over the flower-beds. "O Val! you said Raymond wasn't at home," murmured Helen. "Well, Aunt Mab said he was going to London; he must have put off his visit." Raymond Fosberton turned at the sound of the carriage-wheels, and sauntered forward to meet the visitors.
He shook hands languidly with Valentine and the two girls, but greeted Jack with a cool stare, which the latter returned with interest. Grenford Manor was very different from Brenlands. Aunt Isabel was fussy and querulous, while Mr. Fosberton was a very ponderous gentlemen in more senses than one.
"Ask him!" answered Jack shortly, nodding with his fists still clenched, in the direction of Fosberton, who was in the act of emerging from the depths of the laurel bush. "Ask him, he knows." "He called me a liar!" answered Fosberton; "and then rushed up and hit me when I was unprepared, the cad!"
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