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e history of the illness was inquired into in detail by the assembled family, the downcast eyes and cheeks with which Robin encountered every mention of Captain Harewood's good offices led to the inference that she had in her excitement forgotten the bounds where the brook and river meet, and was in an anguish of shame; Wilmet meantime looking flushed with the fag of her vexatious day, and speaking plentifully of this same Captain, proving to herself all the while that she was doing so with ordinary gratitude and composure.
Robina was quartered upon Geraldine in the holiday crowding of the house; and somewhere about four o'clock on the summer morning, Cherry, wakening as usual, and reaching for her book, heard a voice from the corner asking if she wanted anything. 'No, thank you, Bobbie. Go to sleep again.'
'I can't; I've been thinking about it all night. I think he's coming to-day.'
'Who?'
'Captain Harewood. He promised to come and tell us how Lance and Felix are.'
'I am very glad; but Wilmet never said so.'
'No, but-- O Cherry, I wish we could contrive some nice quiet place, but nothing is ever quiet in this house.'
'No,' said Geraldine, who was but too well aware of the fact, 'though I can't imagine that any Harewood can be distressed on that score.'
'Oh, but--' said Robina, to whom the communication began to feel so momentous, that she could not help toying round it before coming to the point--'I know; at least, I am sure he will want to see her particularly.'
'You Robin, what have you got into your head?' said Cherry, trying to misunderstand, but feeling a foreboding throb of consternation.
'It is not my head. Willie told me.' And as she detected a sigh of relief, 'And it is no nonsense of his either. He did it on Sunday evening by the river-side.'
'He did it?' repeated Geraldine, willing to take a moment's refuge in the confusion of antecedents, though too well aware what must be coming.
'You know what I mean. He