Miss Whalley acknowledged the compliment with a severe air of incredulity.  She had never approved of Piers since a certain Sunday morning ten years before when she had caught him shooting at the choir-boys with a catapult, during the litany, over the top of the squire’s large square pew.

She had reported the crime to the Vicar, and the Vicar had lodged a formal complaint with Sir Beverley, who had soundly caned the delinquent in his presence, and given him half a sovereign as soon as the clerical back had been turned for taking the punishment like a man.

But in Miss Whalley’s eyes Piers had from that moment ceased to be regarded as one of the elect, and his curt reception of the good Vicar’s patronage did not further elevate him in her esteem.  She made as brief a response to the introduction as politeness demanded, and crossed the room to Jeanie.

“I must be off,” said Piers.  “I’ve stayed longer than I intended already.”

“Pray do not hurry!” urged Mr. Lorimer.  “The festivities are but just beginning.”

But Piers was insistent, and even Jeanie’s wistful eyes could not detain him.  He waved her a careless farewell, and extricated himself as quickly as possible from surroundings that had become uncongenial.

Descending the stairs somewhat precipitately, he nearly ran into Avery ascending with a troop of children, and stopped to say good-bye.

“You’re not going!” cried Gracie, with keen disappointment.

“Yes, I am.  I can’t stop.  It’s later than I thought.  See you to-morrow!” said Piers.

He held Avery’s hand again in his, and for one fleeting second his eyes looked into hers.  Then lightly he pressed her fingers and passed on without further words.

On the first landing he encountered Mrs. Lorimer.  She smiled upon him kindly.  “Oh, Piers, is it you?” she said.  “Have you been having tea in the schoolroom?”

He admitted that he had.

“And must you really go?” she said.  “I’m sorry for that.  Come again, won’t you?”

Her tone was full of gentle friendliness, and Piers was touched.  “It’s awfully good of you to ask me,” he said.

“I like to see you here,” she answered simply.  “And I am so grateful to you for your kindness to my little Jeanie.”

“Oh, please don’t!” said Piers.  “I assure you it’s quite the other way round.  I shall certainly come again since you are good enough to ask me.”

He smiled with boyish gallantry into the wistful, faded face, carried her fingers lightly to his lips, and passed on.

“Such a nice boy!” Mrs. Lorimer murmured to herself as she went up to the nursery.

“Poor little soul!” was Piers’ inward comment as he ran down to the hall.

Here he paused, finding himself face to face with Lennox Tudor who was taking off his coat preparatory to ascending.

The doctor nodded to him without cordiality.  Neither of them ever pretended to take any pleasure in the other’s society.