Jack turned over in his own mind every possible cause of offence.  He couldn’t perceive that it was he himself that was not wanted, and that she cared not a button for anything he had done or left undone.

He talked on perseveringly with the others, glancing stealthily at Bluebell tatting, till Cecil got up to make tea, when he moved to a seat nearer.

“I wasn’t out of uniform till four o’clock, Miss Leigh, or I should have been at the Rink.”

“So I suppose.  You always go there, don’t you?”

“When I expect to meet any one,” trying to throw a sentimental look in his generally laughing brown eyes.

“It isn’t usually empty:  but, of course, you don’t go for the skating.  You’ll never make anything of that.”

“Any more than you will be of driving,” retorted Jack.  “Shall you ever forget that crumpler down the bank?  Dahlia hasn’t recovered the fright yet.”

“Stupid thing; what did she jump over for?  I was nearly suffocated.  I am sure there must have been a cast of me on the snow.”

“It wasn’t altogether unpleasant,” said Jack.  “We were covered up very snug and warm, like babes in the wood.  I shouldn’t mind doing it again in the same company.”

“Shouldn’t you?” said Bluebell, indignantly.  “Then you may omit the company.”  And so they went on whispering, to Mrs. Rolleston’s annoyance, till the Colonel’s voice was heard bringing in a visitor—­a lady of unfashionable appearance, chiefly remarkable for the variety of knitted articles, described in work-books as “winter comforts,” displayed on her person.

“Ma tante!” ejaculated Jack, incautiously; “who is this old Quiz?”

“Here is Mrs. Leigh,” said Colonel Rolleston, “who says she has not seen her daughter for three weeks.  Where are you Bluebell?”

Jack felt ready to sink into the earth, while his boyish face became the colour of a peony; and Bluebell, vexed and hurt, advanced to the maternal embrace.

Their mutual confusion was so evident, that the Colonel put another interpretation on it, and remarked, in a tone the reverse of congratulatory,—­“You have not been long getting out of harness, Vavasour.”

Jack muttered something, and tried to catch Bluebell’s eye, agonies of contrition in his own.

“Well, my dear, and how well you are looking,” said Mrs. Leigh.  “But we have missed you at home, Aunt Jane and I. No, thank you, Mrs. Rolleston; not at all tired.  I caught the street-car at the corner, which brought me all the way for five cents.  Very respectable people in it; only one soldier; he was not at all tipsy.  I don’t think your men ever are, Colonel.  Thank you, Miss Rolleston,” as Cecil brought her some tea.  “I’ll just unbutton my Sontag, or I shan’t feel the good of it when I go out again, shall I?”

“I have been thinking,” said Mrs. Rolleston, to whom it had just occurred that this would be a good break in Jack’s attentions, “that it would be very nice if Bluebell went home for a few days, as you have seen so little of her.”