The Crowned Skull | Page 3

said quickly. 'Mr. Bowring is waiting for
you in the library.'
'Mr. Bowring!' echoed Sir Hannibal, growing red and looking fierce;
'and what may Mr. Bowring want?'
'I really do not know. He came over from the Grange in his motor-car
and seems very anxious to see you--on business, I suppose.'
'He might have chosen a day when I was less busy,' retorted Trevick,
and seemed inclined to deny himself to the untoward visitor. But on
second thoughts he turned away towards the house. 'I must see him, I
suppose,' he said ill-humouredly; 'something to do with the Grange, I
expect. He is a most expensive tenant in spite of his being a millionaire.
He always wants something done. Miss Stretton, will you excuse?
Dericka, please look after Miss Stretton.' And he went away with a last
look at Anne, who stood silent, drawing figures on the sandy path with
the tip of her sun-shade.
'Have you had some refreshment?' Dericka asked her formally.
'Thanks, yes,' replied Miss Stretton with a sweet smile, and with rage in
her heart at the interruption. 'Now I must buy something.'
'Or you can have your fortune told,' said Forde smiling. 'Go to the Tent
of Mystery. Miss Warry is there, and she really tells the most
wonderful things.'
'Has she told your fortune?' asked Miss Stretton with a glance at
Dericka.
'That is very easy to read,' answered Forde, smiling again.
Anne tossed her head. 'How superstitious you are.'
'I believe that there are more things in heaven and earth than are
dreamed of in our philosophy,' retorted the young man dryly.
'Poor Shakespeare; what a mis-quotation.'

'Give the credit to Bacon,' laughed Dericka, who scarcely knew what to
say to a woman she so much disliked.
'I am not clever enough to decide the Bacon-Shakespeare controversy,
Miss Trevick. You are, I understand?'
'You praise me too much, Miss Stretton.'
How far the battle of words would have gone it is impossible to say,
but the presence of Forde restrained the feminine war, and the situation
was adjusted by a glance between the two women. Then Miss Stretton
turned away with a laugh--a society laugh, to hide deeper feelings, and
left the lovers alone. 'You can talk Romeo and Juliet,' she called back
mockingly.
Dericka rather talked Lady Macbeth. 'How I hate that woman,' she said
clenching her small fist; 'an adventuress, and--'
'That is too severe, my dear.'
'No it isn't. She came here pretending to paint pictures, but in reality to
look for a husband.'
'Rumour gives Penrith to her in that capacity.'
'And my knowledge of her scheming gives her my father.'
'Pooh! Sir Hannibal is too old to think of marriage.'
'A man is never too old to be cajoled by a woman,' said Dericka, tartly.
'I know that,' replied Oswald gaily; 'even my twenty-seven venerable
years have not saved me.'
Dericka pinched his arm. 'You donkey.'
'A really nice girl would have put in an adjective.'
'You silly donkey!' Where upon the young man kissed her, and a lovers'

interlude followed.
'When will you allow me to ask Sir Hannibal?' demanded the barrister
softly.
'To-morrow, before you go back to town. But papa will not make any
objection, dearest. He has just enough to live on, and will be very glad
to place his burden--I am the burden, if you please--on someone else's
shoulders.'
'Dear burden,' murmured Forde, taking her in his arms. Then, when he
descended to earth again, 'Why doesn't Bowring help your father? I
heard that they were old friends.'
'Old enemies, rather,' said Dericka with a cloud over-shadowing her fair
face. 'Mr. Bowring knew papa in Africa years ago, when I was a little
baby. When he made his money he asked papa to let him have the
Grange, and pays him a good rent. But papa and Mr. Bowring hardly
ever speak and never visit one another.'
'But Mr. Bowring is with him now?'
'Yes, and I am going into the house to see what is the matter.'
'There is no need,' urged Forde, restraining her.
'There is every need,' replied Dericka determinedly. 'Papa in many
things is a mere baby, and I have to do everything; besides, he has a
very quick temper, and Mr. Bowring is a very rough man. Should they
quarrel, and that is not unlikely, I don't know what may happen.'
'Let me go with you to the house.'
'No, stop here. People always smile when they see us together.'
'Who cares for their smiling? We are as good as engaged.'
'Wait until our engagement is announced,' said Dericka quickly, 'then I
won't mind. But I hate gossip, until my position is assured with papa's

approval.'
'Ah, then you do count Sir Hannibal as something?'
'Of course. I like to do