The English Tutor by Sara Seale Page B

again at the beginning. ”
    They sat looking at him, Brian alert and a little apprehensive, Clancy slumped in her chair, an expression of bored indifference on her face.
    “ I often miss lessons, ” Brian excused himself. “ When I get colds and things Agnes sends me to bed. ”
    “ Yes, well I hope you ’ re growing out of that now, ” Mark replied briskly. “ We ’ ll have to try to persuade Agnes that you don ’ t need so much coddling. ”
    Half-way through the morning, Agnes brought in the tray of milk and biscuits for Brian, but this time she set it down on the table and left the room without speaking.
    At eleven o ’ clock, Mark left them for their twenty minutes ’ break, and strolled up and down on the terrace, thinking over the lesson he had just concluded. He liked teaching, and even such unpromising material as he seemed to have here did not as yet discourage him. He found himself slipping back into those leisurely days of his youth when personal problems were mainly academic, and the little world of school so all-important. He stood for a moment loo king across the loch, placid in the sunlight, at the brown hills and the wild landscape softened by the summer haze, and felt very remote from the country he had left such a short time ago.
    He glanced at his watch and turned back into the house. As the next lesson proceeded he knew that he had the boy ’ s interest. Indeed, to Brian, used to a muddled and usually inadequate method of education, Mark ’ s clearly phrased sentences proved a distraction and he found himself eager to learn and still more eager to please. But Clancy showed no response, and merely shook her head when Mark paused to ask her if she understood. He let it go for the moment. It was enough to have gained the boy ’ s willing co-operation, and he did not anticipate much trouble from Brian in the future.
    Clancy, who was begin n ing to fidget, sprang to her feet as the schoolroom door suddenly opened, and her glad cry of: “ Conn! ” made Mark break off in the middle of a sentence. He was momentarily startled by the change in her. Here for the first time was a young girl, pliant and eager, her mobile face fit with a charm that was quite unconscious, and he turned to look curiously at the young man who had entered the room.
    “ Hello! ” Conn said, including them all in a vague salute. “ I just looked in to tell you, Clancy, that Sunrise has foaled and it ’ s a filly. ”
    “ A filly! ” Clancy ran up to him. “ Oh, Conn, that ’ s wonderful! When did it happen? Why wasn ’ t I there? ”
    “ Yesterday afternoon. I thought you were coming over. ” Clancy ’ s look of anguish was out of all proportion to the occasion.
    “ He kept me, ” she cried, jerking her head in Mark ’ s direction. “ He kept me in the whole afternoon when I should have been helping you with the mare. I ’ ll never forgive him. ”
    Conn gave her a careless pat.
    “ Don ’ t fuss yourself. We got on very well without you, ” he said, and crossed over to Mark, holding out a hand. “ You, I suppose, are this English monster I ’ ve been hearing so much about. I ’ m Conn Driscoll. ”
    The two men shook hands, and Conn said:
    “ Is the poor child in your bad books already, to be kept in on a fine summer ’ s afternoon? ”
    “ It was Clancy ’ s own fault, ” said Mark. “ She cut her morning ’ s work, and it had to be done in her free time.
    Conn scratched his red head.
    “ I see what you mean, Clancy, my dear, ” he said with a grin. “ It ’ s the English way, you know. Everything laid down for you—British discipline. ”
    Clancy grinned, scenting an ally.
    “ He ’ ll learn, won ’ t he, Conn? ” she said gaily.
    Mark sat down at the table again.
    “ No, Clancy, I think it ’ s you who will learn, ” he said. “ Sit down please, and get on with your work. ”
    She hung on to Conn ’ s arm.
    “ Oh, but it ’ s nearly lunch-time, ” she said. “ I must go and