"My aunt is in her room," she stammered hastily; "I will send to tell her you are here. She will be very glad to see you."
And she called back the servant who had admitted him, and sent a message upstairs.
Mrs. Hardy, however, did not hurry herself. She was a thrifty housekeeper still, as in her early days, and devoted her forenoons religiously to her domestic affairs. Just now she was sorting linen that had returned from the wash; and, hearing that her niece was in the drawing-room, she had no scruple about remaining to finish her task.
"Say I will be down directly," she said. And she did not go down for considerably more than half an hour.
In the meantime Rachel tumbled her flowers into the basket, took off her hat, and seated herself demurely in a green satin chair.
"It is a lovely morning," she remarked.
"Oh, a charming morning—perfectly charming! You ought to be having a ride, you know. Have you tried Black Agnes yet?"
"No, not yet. My habit has not come home. They promised to send it last night, but they did not. I am very anxious to try her. She is the prettiest creature I ever saw. I—I," beginning to blush violently, "have not half thanked you for your kindness, Mr. Kingston."
"Pray don't mention it," he replied, waving his hand; "I shall be only too glad if I am able to give you a little pleasure."
"It is the greatest pleasure," she said, smiling. "But she is so good—so much too good—I am half afraid to take her out, for fear anything should happen to her. Uncle Hardy says she is a much better horse than he wants for me."