"Oh!"
Dick looked at his father in astonishment.
"She said no word of it to me last night—and I saw her home. I suppose she sent word over about that too?"
He looked from one to the other of his companions, but neither answered him. Some uneasiness indeed was apparent in them both.
"Oho!" he said with a smile. "Stella's coming over and I know nothing of it. Mr. Thresk's lazy, so remains at Little Beeding and delivers a lecture to me over breakfast. And you, father, seem in remarkable spirits."
Mr. Hazlewood seized upon the opportunity to interrupt his son's reflections.
"I am, my boy," he cried. "I walked in the fields this morning and—" But he got no further with his explanations, for the sound of Mrs. Pettifer's voice rang high in the hall and she burst into the room.
"Harold, I have only a moment. Good morning, Mr. Thresk," she cried in a breath. "I have something to say to you."
Thresk was disturbed. Suppose that Stella came while Mrs. Pettifer was
here! She must not speak in Mrs. Pettifer's presence. Somehow Mrs.
Pettifer must be dismissed. No such anxiety, however, harassed Mr.
Hazlewood.
"Say it, Margaret," he said, smiling benignantly upon her. "You cannot annoy me this morning. I am myself again," and Dick's eyes turned sharply upon him. "All my old powers of observation have returned, my old interest in the great dark riddle of human life has re-awakened. The brain, the sedulous, active brain, resumes its work to-day asking questions, probing problems. I rose early, Margaret," he flourished his hands like one making a speech, "and walking in the fields amongst the cows a most curious speculation forced itself upon my mind. How is it, I asked myself—"