"At home? Oh, yes, she's not broken in yet."
"Good heavens! I meant Miss Jerrold."
Derek heard Gunn snigger. He looked at him sternly as they alighted at the door. He felt that some day he should cuff Gunn's ears.
Edmund Vale was a year younger than Derek, slenderer, more supple, and not so tall. They bore a brotherly resemblance, but their eyes were so different that the difference was more pronounced than the resemblance. Derek's, wide-open, nearer green than blue, were expectant, confident, mirthful; Edmund's, velvety brown with a slightly oblique slant, were questioning rather than expectant, pleading rather than confident, malicious rather than mirthful. His lips were pouting, and when he smiled, as he did readily, he showed excellent white teeth.
He was immensely amused by Derek's situation at Grimstone; he chaffed him about the number of his "retainers" and the beauty of his "handmaidens." It was easy to see that he had at once slipped into the good graces of Mrs. Machin. When she and Derek were alone for a moment she said that she could not see for the life of her what his uncle had had against Edmund. For her part she thought him a fine young man that any uncle might be proud to make his heir.
They had a hearty meal, and it was pleasant indeed to Derek to have someone to talk and laugh with, over his food, after eating so long by himself. After the meal it was still light enough for a casual inspection of the stock and farm. They filled their pockets with apples for the horses, and Edmund could hardly tear himself away from the two Welsh ponies who, like forward children, pushed and jostled each other and their new friend in their desire to be fed and petted. In fact he seemed more interested
