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Since Jan's return from India he had completely won her heart by taking a great many photographs of the children, pictures delightfully natural, and finished as few amateurs contrive to present them. It was rumoured in Amber Guiting that Mr.
Tony's tormented soul sought for something soothing. The garden was pleasant, but it wasn't enough. Ah! he'd got it! He'd go to the river; all by himself he'd go, and not tell anybody. He'd look over the bridge into that cool deep pool and perhaps that big fat trout would be swimming about. What was it he had heard Captain Middleton say last time he was down at Amber Guiting? "The Mayfly was up."
There came a bump and a jar, and the train moved out onto a siding till it should go back to Amber Guiting when the 1.30 from London came in. Tony sat quite still in the dark, stuffy van. His little heart was beating with hammer strokes against his ribs, but his face expressed nothing but scorn. Again his father had lied to him.
Again he had said he was going to do one thing when he fully intended to do another. The pleasantness, the kindliness, the apparent desire for Tony's society were a cheat. Tony spoke rapidly to himself in Hindustani, and by the time he had finished expressing his views Hugo Tancred hadn't a shred of character left. He didn't know when the train would go back to Amber Guiting.
"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We happened to travel together." "Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station together as a matter of course. Then came the question of plans.
Among the neighbours there was none more assiduous in the matter of calls and other friendly manifestations than Mr. Huntly Withells emphasis on the "ells" who lived at Guiting Grange, about a couple of miles from Wren's End. Mr.
It stands just beyond the village of Amber Guiting, on the side furthest from the station, which is a mile from the village. "C. C. S. 1819" is carved above the front door, but the house was built a good fifty years previous to that date.
Miles walked slowly back to Amber Guiting that warm May evening. He had a good deal to think over, for he had come to a momentous decision. When he thought of Meg as he had just seen her small and tremulous and tearful he clenched his big hands and made a sound in his throat not unlike William's growl. When he pictured her angry onslaught upon William, he laughed.
This made his entertainment at any meal a matter of agitated consideration among the ladies of Amber Guiting. Nevertheless, he kept an excellent and hospitable table himself, and in no way forced his own taste upon others. He disliked the smell of tobacco and hardly ever drank wine, yet he kept a stock of excellent cigars and his cellar was beyond reproach.
The Row was beginning to fill, and suddenly he came upon his second cousin, Lady Penelope Pottinger, sitting all alone on a green chair with another empty one beside it. Miles dropped into the empty chair. He liked Lady Pen. She was always downright and sometimes very amusing. Moreover she took an intelligent interest in dogs, and knew Amber Guiting and its inhabitants.
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