“Oh yes; indeed!  The Vicarage children and their mother are the greatest friends I have.”  Avery spoke with warmth.  “The children are having tea down in one of the cornfields now.  We must go and see them presently.  You are fond of children, I know.”

“I sort of love them,” said Crowther with his slow, kind smile.  “Ah, Piers, my lad, are you trying to steal a march on us?  Did you think I didn’t know?”

He spoke without raising his voice.  Avery turned sharply to see her husband standing on the steps of a room above them.  One glimpse she had of Piers’ face ere he descended and joined them, and an odd feeling of dismay smote her.  For that one fleeting moment there seemed, to be something of the cornered beast in his aspect.

But as he came straight down to Crowther and wrung his hand, his dark face was smiling a welcome.  He was in riding-dress, and looked very handsome and young.

“How did you know it was I?  Awfully pleased to see you!  Sorry I couldn’t get back sooner.  I’ve been riding like the devil.  Avery explained, did she?” He threw himself into a chair, and tossed an envelope into her lap.  “An invitation to Ina Rose’s wedding on the twenty-third.  That’s the week after next.  They are sorry they can’t manage to call before, hope you’ll understand and go.  I said you should do both.”

“Thank you, Piers.”  Avery laid the envelope aside unopened.  She did not feel that he was being very cordial to Crowther.  “I am not sure that I shall go.”

“Oh yes, you will,” he rejoined quickly.  “You must.  It’s an order, see?” His dark eyes laughed at her, but there was more than a tinge of imperiousness in his manner.  “Well, Crowther, how are you?  Getting ready to scatter the Philistines?  Don’t give me milk, Avery!  You know I hate it at this time of day.”

She looked at him in surprise.  He had never used that impatient tone to her before.  “I didn’t know,” she observed simply, as she handed him his cup.

“Well, you know now,” he rejoined with an irritable frown.  “Hurry up, Crowther!  I want you to come and see the crops.”

Avery was literally amazed by his manner.  He had never been so frankly and unjustifiably rude to her before.  She came to the conclusion that something had happened at the Roses’ to annoy him; but that he should visit his annoyance upon her was a wholly new experience.

He drank his tea, talking hard to Crowther the while, and finally sprang to his feet as if in a ferment to be gone.

“Won’t Lady Evesham come too?” asked Crowther, as he rose.

Avery rose also.  “Yes, I have promised the children to join them in the cornfield,” she said.

Piers said nothing; but she had a very distinct impression that he would have preferred her to remain behind.  The wonder crossed her mind if he were jealous because he could no longer have her exclusively to himself.

They walked down through the park to the farm.  It was a splendid August evening.  The reaping was still in progress, and the whirr of the machine rose slumbrous through the stillness.  But of the Vicarage children there was at first no sign.