“I come, too!” Pauly cried, scrambling up from the centre of the hearth-rug in a great hurry.

“No,” said the Vicar gravely. “I told you not to go into the kitchen garden alone, Pauly. You must be obedient before daddy takes you out with him.”

Pauly did not cry, as Sydney half expected. He twisted his fingers in and out of his belt in silence for a minute; then observed defiantly, “Bad old Satan come along and said, ‘Pauly, go into the kitchen garden.’”

“Yes,” said the Vicar gravely, “but what ought Pauly to have done?”

Pauly slowly stumped across the room, and stood looking wistfully from the barred window.

“Wis’ I’d punc’ed his head!” came in a subdued murmur from the bunchy little figure in the sunshine.

Mr. Seaton smiled and stroked the red hair gently. “Next time Pauly will say ‘No,’ that will be better.”

Then he opened the door for Sydney, and they went out together.

The Vicar brought round the little cart with its shaggy pony. Sydney got in, and they[66] drove off. From the nursery window a fat hand was waving to them with an affectation of great cheerfulness. “Poor little chap!” said Pauly’s father.

[66]

Mr. Fenton was waiting about rather anxiously on the steps of the Castle, and came forward with a look of unmistakable relief as he recognised Sydney.

He shook hands with the Vicar and thanked him warmly for “bringing home Miss Lisle,” but Sydney noticed that he did not ask him to come in. He said that neither Lady Frederica nor Lord St. Quentin were yet down, but the servants had been much alarmed by Sydney’s disappearance. She and Mr. Seaton between them explained its cause; Mr. Fenton reiterated his thanks, and the Vicar got into his pony-cart and drove away, with a shy hand-shake from Sydney and a request that he would give her love to little Pauly.

“Was it wrong to go out for a walk?” Sydney asked, as she and the old lawyer went into the Castle.

“Oh no, not wrong, my dear young lady!” he assured her, “only perhaps rather injudicious.”

[67]

[67]

 Prev. P 31/161 next