CHAPTER XII

OSBORN INTERFERES

When Grace and Kit had gone a short distance they heard voices and a rattle of sticks in the wood, but the noise got fainter and she imagined the beaters were moving the other way.  Ferrars, who shot at the woodcock, had probably not had time to tell Osborn about his carelessness, and it looked as if nobody else had been posted near the road.  This was something of a relief, but Grace felt anxious.  A gate not far off led to a drive in the wood, and she thought she had heard Osborn’s voice.

She kept on the belt of grass, which got narrower, so that the path ran close to the hedge.  On the opposite side, a clump of silver-firs threw a shadow across the road, and a patch of pale-yellow sky shone behind an opening in the trees.  The stiff fir-branches cut sharply against the glow, but where she and Kit were the light was dim.  For all that, she stopped abruptly when a man came out of the wood and turned, as if to look up the road.  It was Osborn and she thought she knew for whom he was looking.

Grace’s judgment failed her.  She pushed Kit towards the beech hedge and they stepped into a small hollow among the withered leaves.  Kit like Grace, had not had time for thought, but as Osborn, looking straight in front, went past, he felt he had done wrong.  For one thing, it was rather shabby to hide and his doing so reflected on his companion.  The feeling got stronger as Osborn went up the road, and Kit was sorry he had given way to a cowardly impulse.  Yet since he had hidden, he must wait.

After a few moments, Grace turned her head and Kit saw her face was flushed.  It was obvious that she felt much as he felt.  She had prompted him to hide, but she had done so in sudden alarm and he ought to have kept cool and thought for both, particularly since it was getting plain that Osborn was looking for them.  The latter stopped, hesitated, and came back, and Grace turned sharply to Kit.  Her look was strained, but he got a hint of haughtiness and resolve.  He made a sign that he understood, and knew he had done well when he moved back from the hedge.  A moment’s hesitation would have cost him the girl’s respect.  They waited in the road and Kit’s heart beat fast, but not with fear.

Osborn stopped a yard or two off and looked at them with sternly controlled rage.

“It’s obvious that I passed you just now,” he said.

“You did; I ought to have stopped you,” Kit agreed.  “For a moment, it did not strike me that you were looking for Miss Osborn.”

Osborn glanced at the hollow in the hedge.  “It’s curious you stopped at a spot where there was not much chance of your being seen.”

Grace turned, as if she meant to speak, but Kit resumed:  “After all, I don’t know that you are entitled to question what I do on a public road.”

“Certainly not,” said Osborn, with forced quietness.  “I have, however, a right to question my daughter’s choice of her acquaintances, and it looks as if I had some grounds for using my authority.”  He paused and turned to Grace.  “Your mother is waiting for you.  You had better go home.”