that is what you
mean.'

'I fancied,' said Mr. Falkirk, looking puzzled, 'that in the
general buzz of tongues yesterday--which is fit to confuse
anything with more brains than a mosquito--I heard various
buzzings which seemed to have reference to him. Perhaps I was
wrong. I did not mean to listen, but if a fly gets into your
ear it is difficult not to know it. Was I right, or was I
wrong?'

'Right, I fancy, sir. Mr. Rollo's name is very often upon
people's tongues.'

'What did they mean? What was it about?'

She hesitated a little.

'I daresay your opinion was correct, Mr. Falkirk, as to the
meaning as well as the buzz. It is hardly worth bringing up
again.'

If Mr. Falkirk had any roughness in his manner or in his
composition, he had also and certainly a very gentle side of
it for his ward. He looked at her again and dropped the
subject. But he had got another. He waited a little before
bringing it up.

'Another thing I heard confused my ideas, Miss Hazel. You must
not wonder at me; you know, a bear _just_ out of winter quarters
might well be astonished at coming into a garden full of
crickets, and a little unable to distinguish one song from
another. But it seemed to me that I heard something said--or
alluded to--about your being unwillingly obliged to go home
from somewhere. Can you give me any explanation?'

The pause was longer this time, the colour unsteady. Then she
put both hands up to her forehead, pushing back the dark rings
of hair with an impatient touch, and began, speaking low and
rapidly, but straight to the point.

'I was invited to a garden party at Mrs. Powder's, and after I
got there, found out that the invitation included a four-in-
hand drive to Greenbush. And I went. And Mr. Rollo heard of my
going, and followed me there with Primrose and Reo and the
carriage, and made me come back.'--She had gone on, throwing in
details, as if to prevent their being called for. Now the
scarlet flush with which the last words were spoken faded
away, and she was silent and rather pale.

I suppose Mr. Falkirk had done his breakfast. If not, he lost
the last part of it. For as Wych Hazel stopped speaking he
rose from the table and began to take turns up and down the
room; scowling, it must be confessed, as if he would have
rather liked an excuse to 'pitch into' his co-guardian. He
said nothing for some minutes, and it was not necessary; his
eyebrows were eloquent.

'A four-in-hand party!' he said