Aunt Patty's Paying Guests by Eglanton Thorne

WE gained the house without encountering anybody. Agneta went upstairs at once, while I hastened to get her a cup of tea. Entering the dining-room, I found Alan Faulkner seated there taking tea in solitude. I started at seeing him, and a hot tide of colour rose in my face. I would have given anything not to have blushed at that moment. The belief that my access of colour would be interpreted as a symptom of inward shame heightened my confusion till I felt that I was crimson to the roots of my hair.

"Oh," I said stupidly, "are you having tea alone?"

"Yes," he said. "Jenny insisted on bringing me some. She said all the others were out."

"I hope she made it properly," I said.

"It is very nice," he replied. "Let me give you some?"

"No, thank you, I will not have any just now," I responded awkwardly; "but I will take a cup for Agneta. She has a headache."

I began to prepare a little tray to carry upstairs, and he helped me deftly. It had been a surprise to me to discover that such a learned man could be so handy and practical in everyday matters.

I went upstairs and remained with Agneta until she had taken her tea. I expected that Mr. Faulkner would have quitted the dining-room ere my return, but when I came back with the tray, he was still there, doing nothing more profitable than playing with Sweep.

"I poured out a cup for you, Miss Nan," he said as I entered. "I know you do not like strong tea, but now I am afraid you will find it cold. Let me ring for some fresh tea?"

"This will do nicely, thank you," I said constrainedly as I seated myself at the table.

He had moved to the window, and sat there in such a position that I only caught a side view of him. Sweep's forepaws were on his knee, and he was stroking the dog's ears with a regular, even movement, which appeared to be equally agreeable to them both.

"Why could he not go away and leave me to take my tea in peace? " I thought, as I waited nervously for him to speak. I tried hard to appear at my ease as I sipped my tea, but I was far from being so. I longed to break into careless talk, but somehow I could think of nothing to say.

Gradually I became aware that he was scarcely less embarrassed than I was. Once or twice, he shot a grave, inquiring glance at me, and seemed about to speak, but nothing came of it. When at last he spoke, his words gave me a shock.

"That was Mr. Ralph Marshman whom I saw with you in the wood, Miss Nan."

"It was," was all I could say, while, to my vexation, I felt myself flushing again.

"He was at Cambridge with me," he said.

"You know him then? " was my reply.

"My acquaintance with him was of the slightest description," he replied emphatically. "He was in his first year, and I had finished my college course."

I was silent, for I felt myself in a dilemma. For Agneta's sake I should have liked to question him concerning Mr. Ralph Marshman; but if I did so he would imagine that I took a personal interest in the young man. Indeed, I much feared that already that idea had possession of his mind. I longed to explain the true state of affairs, but I could not betray Agneta's secret. I was bound to keep silence, but I realised with a sinking heart that my promise was likely to cost me dear.

An awkward silence had lasted for some minutes, when Alan Faulkner said in a low, deep voice, that seemed to vibrate with some subtle emotion: