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 lanky¹, 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 artistic² effects, wished to sketch³ 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 confided⁴ 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, [244]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 rankle⁵!" 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. Shall we go for a picnic somewhere?"
 
"Yes, if the kids don't trail after us! I don't bargain to take Beata, Romola, Madox, Lilith, Constable⁶, Perugia and perhaps the baby in its pram⁷!"
 
"You shan't! I'll see to that. Just Landry and I'll go, and we won't tell the small fry we're off."
 
"How about the grotto⁸?"
 
"A1! I'll ask Lorraine to come with us. The tide will be just right to get round the rocks, so we'll take our lunch and eat it there."
 
Lorraine, shamelessly regardless of appointments [245]at the dentist's and dressmaker's, accepted the invitation, and joined the party with a picnic-basket. It was an ideal day for the excursion; the warm sunshine was tempered by a cool breeze blowing in straight from the Atlantic; the sea had assumed its summer hue⁹ of intense blue-green, and the cliffs were covered with the beautiful crimson¹⁰ wild geranium.
 
The young people loitered along in no particular hurry, looking out to sea at the vessels¹¹, picking flowers or wild strawberries, or even a few early dewberries. As they wound up the path by the coast-guard station they heard voices behind them, and a little party consisting of an officer and two ladies passed them, walking briskly in the direction of the moors¹². Morland, who had saluted¹³, turned to the girls with an eloquent¹⁴ face.
 
"It's Blake, our captain," he explained. "I saw him travelling down on Thursday, and I believe he's staying at the 'George'."
 
"Do you like him?" asked Claudia.
 
"Like him? If there's one man on the face of the earth whom I abhor¹⁵ it's that fellow! Thinks he's the Shah of Persia and we're dirt under his feet! He's not popular, I can tell you. He makes my blood boil sometimes!"
 
"He's dropped something," said Lorraine, bending down and picking up a small leather dispatch case that was lying by the side of the pathway. She handed it to Morland.
 
"Could you run after him and give it to him?" suggested Claudia to her brother.
 
[246]"I shan't trouble myself. He's gone too far."
 
"We can leave it at his hotel afterwards then."
 
"I suppose we can, though if he flings his things about like this he doesn't deserve to have them returned to him, the blighter!" groused¹⁶ Morland, pocketing the case with a frown. "I wish Blake was taking his leave somewhere else. I'd rather not breathe the same air with him!"
 
"Is it as bad as all that?" asked Claudia.
 
"Worse!" said Morland gloomily. "But I don't want to talk about him—he's the skeleton at the feast—the

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