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“Leave her alone, Mother!” For the second time Rufus intervened. “I’ve offended her. My mistake. I’ll know better next time.”

His deep voice was wholly devoid of humour. It was, in fact, devoid of any species of emotion whatever. Yet, oddly enough, the anger died out of Columbine’s face as she heard it. She turned to the tablecloth-press and began to unwind it in silence.

Mrs. Peck sniffed, and took up the soup-tureen.

As she waddled out of the kitchen Columbine withdrew the parlour tablecloth and turned round.

“If you’re really sorry,” she said, “I’ll forgive you.”

Rufus regarded her for several seconds in silence, a slow smile dawning in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said finally.

“You are sorry then?” insisted Columbine.

He shook his great bull-head, the smile still in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” he said.

There was no perceptible familiarity in the remark, and Columbine, after brief consideration, decided to dismiss it without discussion. “Well, let it be a lesson to you, and don’t you ever do such a thing again!” she said severely. “For I won’t have you or any man lay hands on me–not even in fun.”

“All right,” said Rufus.

He thrust his hands deep into his pockets as if to remove all cause of offence, and was rewarded by a swift smile from Columbine. The storm had blown away.

“I’ll lay for four after all,” she said, as she whisked out of the room.

Rufus was still seated in solitary state in the kitchen when Mrs. Peck returned from the little coffee-room where she had been serving her guest.

She peered round with caution ere she came close to him and spoke.

“It’s as you thought. He don’t want to go with either you or Adam.”

Rufus’s face remained unchanged; it was slightly bovine of expression as he received the news. “We’ll both get to bed in good time then,” was his comment.

Mrs. Peck’s smooth brow drew in momentary exasperation. She had expected something more dramatic than this.

“I’m glad you’re so easily satisfied,” she said. “But let me tell you–I’m not!”

She paused to see if this piece of information would take more effect than the first, but again Rufus proved a disappointment. Neither by word nor look did he express any sympathy.

Mrs. Peck continued, it being contrary to her nature to leave anything to the imagination of her hearers. “If he’d been content to go with one of you, I wouldn’t have given it another thought. Goodness knows, I’m not of a suspicious turn. But the moment I mention the matter, he turns round with his sweetest smile and he says, ‘Oh, don’t you trouble, Mrs. Peck!’ he says. ‘I quite understand. Miss Columbine explained it all, and I quite see your point. It ought to have occurred to me sooner,’ he says, smiling with them nice teeth of his, ‘but, if you’ll believe me, it didn’t.’ And then, when I suggested maybe he’d like you or Adam to go with him instead, it was, ‘No, no, Mrs. Peck. I wouldn’t ask it of ’em. I couldn’t drag any man at the chariot-wheels of Art. If I did, she would see to it that the chariot was empty.’ He most always talks like that,” ended Mrs. Peck in an aggrieved tone. “He’s that airy in his ways.”

A sudden trill of laughter from the doorway caused her to straighten herself sharply and trot to the fireplace with a guilty air.

Columbine entered, light of foot, her eyes brimful of mirth. “You’re caught, Aunt Liza! Yes, you’re caught!” she commented ungenerously. “I know exactly what you were saying. Shall I tell you? No, p’raps I’d better not. I’ll tell you what you looked like instead, shall I? You looked exactly like that funny old speckled hen in the yard who always clucks such a lot. And Rufus”–she threw him a merry glance from which all resentment had wholly departed–“Rufus looks–and is–just like a great red ox.”