Mrs. Oxenham said she did not remember to have done so—that perhaps he was before her time—and graciously took another cup of tea, which she declared was delicious.
"And now, when are you coming to us, Jenny?" Cousin Alice inquired. "Couldn't you come and spend the day to-morrow? And couldn't you come, Mrs. Oxenham? Our tennis club is having a tournament, and we are giving a tea on the ground—under nice shady trees, you know. It would be such an honour if you would come and look on at us."
"I'm afraid I couldn't," said Mary, with a pretence of thinking it over. "But Jenny, if she likes, I could send her in."
"Oh, yes! And couldn't she spend a few days with us when she was here? We have seen nothing of her. We could drive her back to Wandooyamba."
This was what Mrs. Oxenham had fished for, had roasted herself in the sun for, and she roused herself to deal with the timely opportunity. She looked at Jenny, and Jenny looked back at her with eyes that said "No" so unmistakably as to suggest the thought that perhaps she knew of Anthony's coming to the mind of the suspicious woman. This made her resolute.
"What do you say, dear?" she inquired genially; and in a moment Jenny understood that her friend wished her to accept the invitation, and was wondering in a startled way whether she had outstayed her welcome at Wandooyamba. "Don't consider us—we must not be selfish—and you will come back to us, of course. Dickson could drive you over when he goes for the letters, and that would give you the afternoon to see the tournament."
There was nothing to say but "thank you" all round, and Jenny said it with good taste, determined to bring her holiday to an end as soon as possible—not to return to Wandooyamba after leaving it, but to spend Christmas with her own too-long deserted family. Mary had an inkling of what was going on in the girl's mind, but said to herself that it couldn't be helped. Anthony must be saved at all hazards.