Tessa came nearer to her, looking at her with an odd species of speculation.  “Aunt Stella,” she said, “that wasn’t—­all—­Mother said.  She made me very, very angry.  Shall I tell you—­would you like to know—­why?”

Stella’s eyes ceased to gaze into distance.  She looked at the child.  Some vague misgiving stirred within her.  It was the instinct of self-defence that moved her to say, “I don’t want to listen to any silly gossip, Tessa darling.”

“It isn’t silly!” declared Tessa.  “It’s much worse than that.  And I’m going to tell you, cos I think I’d better.  She said that everybody says that Uncle Everard won’t go to the picnic on Christmas Eve cos he’s ashamed to look people in the face.  I said it wasn’t true.”  Very stoutly Tessa brought out the assertion; then, a moment later, with a queer sidelong glance into Stella’s face, “It isn’t true, dear, is it?”

Ashamed!  Everard ashamed!  Stella’s hands clasped each other unconsciously about the sleeping baby on her lap.  Strangely her own voice came to her while she was not even aware of uttering the words.  “Why should he be ashamed?”

Tessa’s eyes were dark with mystery.  She pressed against Stella with a small protective gesture.  “Darling, she said horrid things, but they aren’t true any of them.  If Uncle Everard had been there, she wouldn’t have dared.  I told her so.”

With an effort Stella unclasped her hands.  She put her arm around the little girl.  “Tell me what they are saying, Tessa,” she said.  “I think with you that I had better know.”

Tessa suffered Scooter to escape in order to hug Stella close.  “They are saying things about when he went on leave just after you married Captain Dacre, how he said he wanted to go to England and didn’t go, and how—­how—­” Tessa checked herself abruptly.  “It came out at mess one night,” she ended.

A faint smile of relief shone, in Stella’s eyes.  “But I knew that, Tessa,” she said.  “He told me himself.  Is that all?”

“You knew?” Tessa’s eyes shone with sudden triumph.  “Oh, then do tell them what he was doing and stop their horrid talking!  It was Mrs. Burton began it.  I always did hate her.”

“I can’t tell them what he was doing,” Stella said, feeling her heart sink again.

“You can’t?  Oh!” Keen disappointment sounded in Tessa’s voice.  “But p’raps he would,” she added reflectively, “if he knew what beasts they all are.  Shall I ask him to, Aunt Stella?”

“Tell me first what they are saying!” Stella said, bracing herself to face the inevitable.

Tessa looked at her dubiously for a moment.  Somehow she would have found it easier to tell this thing to Monck himself than to Stella.  And yet she had a feeling that it must be told, that Stella ought to know.  She clung a little closer to her.