Osborne made his appearance a considerable time before luncheon the next morning; and no one objected to the earliness of his call. He was feeling better. There were few signs of the invalid about him; and what few there were disappeared under the bright pleasant influence of such a welcome as he received from all. Molly and Cynthia had much to tell him of the small proceedings since he went away, or to relate the conclusions of half-accomplished projects. Cynthia was often on the point of some gay, careless inquiry as to where he had been, and what he had been doing; but Molly, who conjectured the truth, as often interfered to spare him the pain of equivocation—a pain that her tender conscience would have felt for him, much more than he would have felt it for himself.

Mrs. Gibson’s talk was desultory, complimentary, and sentimental, after her usual fashion; but still, on the whole, though Osborne smiled to himself at much that she said, it was soothing and agreeable. Presently, Dr. Nicholls and Mr. Gibson came in; the former had had some conference with the latter on the subject of Osborne’s health; and, from time to time, the skilful old physician’s sharp and observant eyes gave a comprehensive look at Osborne.

Then there was lunch, when every one was merry and hungry, excepting the hostess, who was trying to train her midday appetite into the genteelest of all ways, and thought (falsely enough) that Dr. Nicholls was a good person to practise the semblance of ill-health upon, and that he would give her the proper civil amount of commiseration for her ailments, which every guest ought to bestow upon a hostess who complains of her delicacy of health. The old doctor was too cunning a man to fall into this trap. He would keep recommending her to try the coarsest viands on the table; and, at last, he told her, if she could not fancy the cold beef, to try a little with pickled onions. There was a twinkle in his eye as he said this, that would have betrayed his humour to any observer; but Mr. Gibson, Cynthia, and Molly were all attacking Osborne on the subject of some literary preference he had expressed, and Dr. Nicholls had Mrs. Gibson quite at his mercy. She was not sorry, when luncheon was over, to leave the room to the three gentlemen; and ever afterwards she spoke of Dr. Nicholls as “that bear.”

Presently, Osborne came upstairs, and, after his old fashion, began to take up new books, and to question the girls as to their music. Mr. Gibson had to go out and pay some calls, so he left the three together; and after a while they adjourned into the garden, Osborne lounging on a chair, while Molly employed herself busily in tying up carnations, and Cynthia gathered flowers in her careless, graceful way.

“I hope you notice the difference in our occupations, Mr. Hamley? Molly, you see, devotes herself to the useful, and I to the ornamental. Please, under what head do you class what you are doing? I think you might help one of us, instead of looking on like the Grand Seigneur.”

“I don’t know what I can do,” said he rather plaintively. “I should like to be useful, but I don’t know how; and my day is past for purely ornamental work. You must let me be, I’m afraid. Besides, I’m really rather exhausted by being questioned and pulled about by those good doctors.”

“Why, you don’t mean to say they have been attacking you since lunch!” exclaimed Molly.

“Yes; indeed, they have; and they might have gone on till now, if Mrs. Gibson had not come in opportunely.”

“I thought mamma had gone out some time ago!” said Cynthia, catching wafts of the conversation, as she flitted hither and thither among the flowers.

“She came into the dining-room not five minutes ago. Do you want her, for I see her crossing the hall at this very moment?” and Osborne half-rose.

“Oh, not at all!” said Cynthia. “Only she seemed to be in such a hurry to go out, I fancied she had set off long ago. She had some errand to do for Lady Cumnor, and she thought she could manage to catch the housekeeper, who is always in the town on Thursday.”

“Are the family coming to the Towers this autumn?”