The Princess of the School | Page 9

with their
long day in the fresh air. Milner, the chauffeur, must have made an
early start, for he arrived at eleven o'clock next morning in the small
car, armed with his master's instructions. He paid the hotel bill,
chartered a taxi, in which he dispatched Lilias, Dulcie, Roland, Bevis
and Clifford, straight for home, then, engaging a mechanic from a
garage, and taking Everard as guide, he started up the hill in the
pouring rain to find the abandoned car. It needed several hours'
attention before it could be induced to start, and it was not until evening
that he was able to place it safely back in the motor-house at Cheverley
Chase.
Everard had expected his peppery grandfather to be angry, but he was
quite unprepared for the intensity of the storm which burst over his
head on his return.
"Your insolence goes beyond all bounds!" thundered Mr. Ingleton. "To
borrow my car without leave! And to take your sisters without a
chaperon to a fifth-rate public-house! You deserve horsewhipping for it!
You think yourself the young Squire, do you? And imagine you can do
just what you like here? While I'm above ground I'll have you to know
I'm master, and nobody else in this place!"

"I can't see it was anything so out of the way to take the kids a run in
the car, and I never meant to keep the girls out all night," replied
Everard defiantly. He had a temper as well as his grandfather, and the
pair had often been at loggerheads before.
"Indeed! There are ways of making people see! You can just go a little
too far sometimes!" declared the old gentleman sarcastically. "I've
given orders that you don't take either car out again unless Milner is
with you. So you understand?"
"I suppose I do," grunted Everard, turning sulkily away.
It was only a few days after this that Everard, Lilias, and Dulcie,
returning home across the park from a walk in the woods, met Mr.
Bowden, the family solicitor, who was riding down the drive from the
Chase. He stopped his motor-bicycle and got off to speak to them. They
knew him well, for he often came to the house to conduct their
grandfather's business, and he was indeed quite a favorite with them all.
He looked at Everard keenly when the first greetings were over.
"Been getting yourself into considerable hot water just lately, haven't
you?" he remarked.
Everard colored and frowned, then burst forth.
"Grandfather's quite too ridiculous! Why shouldn't I take out the car if I
want to? I can drive as well as Milner! He behaved as if I were a kid!
It's more than a fellow can stand sometimes! He likes to keep
everything tight in his own hands; at his age it's time he began to stand
aside a little and let me look after things! I shall have to take charge of
the whole property some day, I suppose!"
Mr. Bowden was gazing at Everard with the noncommittal air often
assumed by lawyers.
"I wouldn't make too sure about that," he said slowly. "I suppose you
know your Uncle Tristram left a child? No! Well, he did, at any rate. I
must hurry on now. I've an appointment to keep at my office. A happy

New Year to you all. Good-by!"
And, starting his engine, he was off before they had time to reply.
"What does he mean?" asked Lilias, watching the retreating bicycle.
"Uncle Tristram has been dead for thirteen years! We never seem to
have heard anything about him!"
"What was that photo we saw on the study table?" queried Dulcie.
"Don't you remember--the lady and the baby, and it had written on it:
'My wife and Leslie, from Tristram.'"
"I suppose it was Uncle Tristram's wife and child," replied Everard
thoughtfully. "He must have called the kid 'Leslie' after Grandfather.
They ought to have christened me 'Leslie.' I can't think why they
didn't."
"Have we a cousin Leslie, then, whom we don't know?"
"I suppose we must have, somewhere!"
"How fearfully thrilling!"
"Um! I don't know that it's thrilling at all. It's the first I've heard of it
until to-day. I wish our father had been the eldest son, instead of Uncle
Tristram!"
"Why? What does it matter?"
"It may matter more than you think. You're a silly little goose, Dulcie,
and, as I often tell you, you never see farther than the end of your own
nose. Surely, after all these years, though, Grandfather must----"
"Must what?" asked Lilias curiously.
"Never you mind! Girls can't know everything!" snapped Everard,
walking on in front of his sisters with a look of unwonted worry upon
his usually careless and handsome young face.

CHAPTER III
A Valentine Party
Chilcombe Hall, where Lilias and