By the end of a month the Trimblett children were in full possession. George Trimblett, owing to the good offices of Mr. Vyner, senior, had obtained a berth in a shipping firm, but the others spent the days at home, the parties most concerned being unanimously of the opinion that it would be absurd to go to school before Christmas. They spoke with great fluency and good feeling of making a fresh start in the New Year.
"Interesting children," said Robert Vyner, who had dropped in one afternoon on the pretext of seeing how they were getting on. "I wish they were mine. I should be so proud of them."
Miss Hartley, who was about to offer him some tea, thought better of it, and, leaning back in her chair, regarded him suspiciously.
"And, after all, what is a garden for?" pursued Mr. Vyner, as a steady succession of thuds sounded outside, and Ted, hotly pursued by the twins, appeared abruptly in the front garden and dribbled a football across the flower-beds.
"They are spoiling the garden," said Joan, flushing. "Father is in despair."
Mr. Vyner shook his head indulgently. "Girls will be girls," he said, glancing through the window at Gertrude, who had thrown herself on the ball and was being dragged round the garden by her heels. "I’m afraid you spoil them, though."
"I saw your eldest boy yesterday, at Marling’s," continued the industrious Mr. Vyner. "He is getting on pretty well; Marling tells me he is steady and quiet. I should think that he might be a great comfort to you in your old age."
In spite of the utmost efforts to prevent it, Miss Hartley began to laugh. Mr. Vyner regarded her in pained astonishment.
"I didn’t intend to be humorous," he said, with some severity. "I am fond of children, and, unfortunately, I—I am childless."
He buried his face in his handkerchief, and, removing it after a decent interval, found that his indignant hostess was preparing to quit the room.
"Don’t go," he said, hastily. "I haven’t finished yet."
"I haven’t got time to stay and talk nonsense," said Joan.
"I’m not going to," said Robert, "but I want to speak to you. I have a confession to make."
Mr. Vyner nodded with sad acquiescence. "I deceived you grossly the other day," he said, "and it has been worrying me ever since."