fenced!" exclaimed Madame, hysterically. "_Mon
eleve!_ If she had fallen a little farther, what then?"

The man shrugged his shoulders, but Lorraine, who had been sitting on
the grass, sprang to her feet.

"_Don't!_" she implored. "_Don't_ please say any more about it. I want
to get away from the place. I know I shall dream it over again all
night! Let me go straight home. I don't want to get any more flowers. I
want just to be quiet and forget about it if I can."

CHAPTER XIX

Morland on Leave

At the end of June Morland came home on leave. He looked well in his
khaki. Military training and camp-life had already worked wonders with
his physique; his lanky, overgrown aspect had disappeared, his chest
measure had increased, and he proudly showed the muscle in his arm. His
father, always with an eye to artistic effects, wished to sketch him for
a picture of Hector, and indeed, with his classic profile and short,
crisp, curly, golden hair, he would have made a capital representation
of that Trojan hero. But Morland absolutely struck at the suggestion of
sitting as model, declaring that he meant to enjoy himself during his
brief leave, and should not even show his nose inside the studio.

"Dad must paint the kids," he confided to Claudia. "I'm fed up with
portraits. Don't even mean to have my photo taken if I can help it. You
remember that picture of me when I was about five--'Grannie's Darling'?
It came out as a coloured Christmas supplement, and was stuck up in
everybody's nursery. Well, they got to know at the camp that I was the
original of it, and they led me a life I can tell you! They've
christened me 'Grannie's Darling'! I'm not going to be 'Hector' or
anybody else! It isn't good enough! I sometimes wish I were as dark as a
gipsy and had a broken nose! They couldn't call me 'My Lady's Lap-dog'
then! Do you know, they caught me once and held me down and tied a blue
ribbon round my neck! I gave them something back though, for ragging me!
They didn't get it all their own way. Lap-dog indeed! Wait till I'm out
at the front, and I'll show them who's the bull-terrier!"

"Poor old boy, it seems to rankle!" consoled Claudia laughingly. "I
should think it's probably envy on their part. They wish they could send
as good-looking a photo home to be put in a locket! Just forget them
while you're on leave. We'll try to do something jolly. What would you
like best? It's Saturday to-morrow, so I'm at your disposal.