“You’re a good friend, Jerry,” said Diana, rather wistfully.

“Yes, I am,” he returned stoutly.  “And so are you, as a rule.  I can’t think why you’re so beastly unfair to Errington.”

“You forget,” she said swiftly, “he’s not my friend.  And perhaps—­he hasn’t always been quite fair to me.”

“Oh, well, let’s drop the subject now”—­Jerry wriggled his broad shoulders uncomfortably.  “Tell me, how are the Rector and—­and Miss Stair?”

The previous summer Jerry had spent a week at Red Gables, and had made Joan’s acquaintance.  Apparently the two had found each other’s society somewhat absorbing, for Adrienne had laughingly declared that she didn’t quite know whether Jerry were really staying at Red Gables or at the Rectory.

“Pobs and Joan sent all sorts of nice messages for you,” said Diana, smiling a little.  “They’re both coming up to town for my recital, you know.”

“Are they?”—­eagerly.  “Hurrah! . . .  We must go on the bust when it’s over.  The concert will be in the afternoon, won’t it?” Diana nodded.  “Then we must have a commemoration dinner in the evening.  Oh, why am I not a millionaire?  Then I’d stand you all dinner at the ‘Carlton.’”

He was silent a moment, then went on quickly: 

“I shall have to make money somehow.  A man can’t marry on my screw as a secretary, you know.”

Diana hastily concealed a smile.

“I didn’t know you were contemplating matrimony,” she observed.

“I’m not”—­reddening a little.  “But—­well, one day I expect I shall.  It’s quite the usual sort of thing—­done by all the best people.  But it can’t be managed on two hundred a year!  And that’s the net amount of my princely income.”

“But I thought that your people had plenty of money?”

“So they have—­trucks of it.  Coal-trucks!”—­with a debonair reference to the fact that Leigh pere was a wealthy coal-owner.  “But, you see, when I was having my fling, which came to such an abrupt end at Monte, the governor got downright ratty with me—­kicked up no end of a shine.  Told me not to darken his doors again, and that I might take my own road to the devil for all he cared, and generally played the part of the outraged parent.  I must say,” he added ingenuously, “that the old boy had paid my debts and set me straight a good many times before he did cut up rusty.”

“You’re the only child, aren’t you?” Jerry nodded.  “Oh, well then, of course he’ll come round in time—­they always do.  I shouldn’t worry a bit if I were you.”

“Well,” said Jerry hesitatingly, “I did think that perhaps if I went to him some day with a certificate of good character and steady work from Errington, it might smooth matters a bit.  I’m fond of the governor, you know, in spite of his damn bad temper—­and it must be rather rotten for the old chap living all by himself at Abbotsleigh.”

“Yes, it must.  One fine day you’ll make it up with him, Jerry, and he’ll slay the fatted calf and you’ll have no end of a good time.”