Henning was very much puzzled at the change, which was more apparent to him than to the others who witnessed the meeting.
"Poor little cousin Ethel. Oh, Roy, I'm so sorry. She was such a charming child!"
Roy looked at him in surprise. Could this be the boy who had done him so much injury and had kept the secret all these months? What to make of the tone, the evident look of candor, the change in Garrett, Roy did not know. Sensible fellow as he was, he made the most of it, judging that if the present meeting were merely a piece of good acting on Andrew's part, he would sooner or later find out the true state of affairs. So he offered his hand to Garrett and it was pressed with genuine sympathy.
"I did, Andrew, and she grieves quite as much as my mother and father. She sends her love, and Papa sends this with his kindest regards to his nephew."
Roy gave the sealed envelope, containing the elder Henning's present. Garrett did not open it at once. He said:
"I have several things I wish to say to you when we are alone. Of course you have heard by this time all about the accident to Stockley?"
"There's more behind this than you think. Get rid of these fellows for a little while. I have a lot to say to you."
"I can not just now," Roy whispered back. "You see they are in a way my guests for the present. To send them away would not only offend, but it would be very unkind."
"Very well then; as soon as you can be alone in the yard this morning?"
Garrett then joined in the general conversation around the breakfast table. Roy was much puzzled. He could not understand Andrew at all. Never during the whole time that Garrett had been with him at St. Cuthbert's had he acted in so cousinly a manner. Roy wondered whether the change had been brought about by Ethel's death. Yet unless Andrew was playing a much deeper game than his cousin gave him credit for being able to play, his advances--for they were in Roy's estimation distinct advances--were genuine. He gave up the problem as too hard of solution--and waited.
His cogitations were soon cut short. The physician came down stairs from his morning visit to the injured boy.
"No, I do not think the boy will die," they heard him remark to the infirmarian, "I am sure he will not, although he thinks he is going to. He'll be all right in a few weeks. What? I told you last night--two ribs and his arm."