very good of him," she remarked, as she sat down again on the
verandah.

Hunt-Goring opened his eyes a quarter of an inch. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, nothing," said Daisy, feeling slightly annoyed. "He's a nice boy,
that's all; and I am grateful to him for being so kind to my little
Peggy."

"It probably answers his purpose," said Hunt-Goring, smothering a yawn.

Daisy took up her work again in silence.

Hunt-Goring finished his cigarette in dreamy ease before he spoke again.

She thought he was half-asleep when unexpectedly he accosted her,
referring to the subject in which he had seemed to take but slight
interest.

"Did you say that puppy's name was Wyndham?"

"He isn't a puppy," said Daisy, quick to defend her friend.

He smiled his tolerant amusement. "My dear little woman, that wasn't
the point of my enquiry."

Daisy stiffened. She suddenly began to sew very fast indeed, without
speaking. Her pretty lips were compressed, but Hunt-Goring seemed
sublimely unconscious of the fact. He smiled to himself as at some
inward thought.

"You did say his name was Wyndham, I think?" he said, after a moment.

"I did," said Daisy.

"There was a fellow of the same name who lived at Weir," observed
Hunt-Goring. "He was the doctor's assistant; had to leave in something
of a hurry, I believe. There was the beginning of a scandal, but it was
hushed up--strangled at birth, so to speak."

"What?" said Daisy. She looked across at him swiftly, her dignity and
work alike forgotten.

Hunt-Goring still smiled placidly. "I daresay it might be described as a
regrettable incident. It concerned the sudden death of a young girl at
which event the said Dr. Wyndham presided. I really shouldn't have
mentioned it if it hadn't been for the familiarity of the name."

"They are brothers," said Daisy.

"Really! That is strange." Again Hunt-Goring barely concealed a yawn.
"Olga Ratcliffe used to be somewhat smitten with the young man in what I
might call her calf days. Doubtless she has got over that by now,
especially as the girl who died was a friend of hers."

"But she can't know of that!" said Daisy quickly. "She has been very
ill, you know--an illness brought on by the shock of it all."

"Indeed!" said Hunt-Goring, and became significantly silent.

Daisy continued to look at him. "She has not got over it," she said
slowly at length, speaking as though uttering her thoughts aloud. "He
is out here now, arrived only last week.