"We are queer mixtures," mused philosophic Dicky.... "I wonder where Tilly is!"
Five minutes later the drawing-room door opened again, this time to admit little ’Melia. She paused and drew back, at the spectacle of her late ally sprawling at ease before the scanty fire.
"Hallo!" replied Amelia cautiously. "Have you come to--see mother?"
"Not to-day, thank you," said Dicky. He regarded the little girl curiously. "I say, ’Melia, have I offended you in any way?"
"You? Me? No!" replied Amelia, in wide-eyed surprise. "Why?"
"There used to be a pleasant little form of greeting," he intimated.
"You still want to?" cried ’Melia in a flutter.
Next moment Miss Amelia Welwyn, feeling that the bottom had not dropped out of the universe after all, was giving Mr. Richard Mainwaring a kiss.
"Where is Tilly this morning?" asked Dicky carelessly.
"Gone out," said Amelia--"to look for a job. She gave up the other one when she got--engaged."
"I suppose you have come to break it off," continued the experienced Amelia. "They all said last night you were bound to do it, after what had happened."
"That sort of thing," explained Dicky, "is done for one by one’s parents, I believe. I am rather young, you see," he added apologetically.
He rose, gently displacing his small admirer from his knee.
"Now I must be off," he said. "Give this to Tilly for me, will you?"
Amelia was still twisting and turning the letter in her hands when the bang of the front door signalled Dicky’s departure.
"If his parents are going to break it off for him," said Amelia to herself in a puzzled whisper, "what does he want to go writing to her for?"
Outside, leaning contentedly against the railings of the garden opposite to the Maison Welwyn, and enjoying the spring sunshine, Dicky encountered the Carmyles.
"Hallo, you two!" he said. "What are you doing here? Liable to get run in for loitering, hanging about like this."
"We have followed you, Dicky," began Connie rapidly, "to tell you that your mother is coming up to town, and--"
"Fourth speed in," confirmed Mr. Carmyle. "Live axle--direct drive--open exhaust."
"Trailing your father behind her," added Connie. "I understand you had an interview with them this morning."
"I did," he said. "It was rather a heated interview, I’m afraid. Words passed. But we can’t stand here dodging taxis. Come into the garden, Maud!"