There was no difficulty whatever in hearing the lady's own utterances, as she shouted in shrill tones at Sir Keith's left ear.
"Not going home till later! Oh, that's it, is it? Ah, you're such a busy man, I know—always hard at work about something or other. Well,—and so poor Mrs. Romilly is really off. Very sad about her, isn't it? I was sure you'd feel it, knowing them so well! And all those girls left behind,—really, it's a thousand pities. Just when they need a mother most! Nice girls too!"
She scanned him with quick inquisitive glances, as he listened, calmly attentive. "I wonder which is your favourite, now! I like Nellie best—not that I know them intimately. The Romillys are difficult people to get hold of. But I always do say they are nice ladylike looking girls, if only they weren't quite so much wrapped up in one another, and in their own concerns. A very attached family, I'm sure, and it's quite pretty to see them all so devoted to their father, dear man! Oh, Mr. Romilly is an immense favourite of mine. But as for Mrs. Romilly,—why, there's no doubt she does keep people at a distance, and holds herself as if she was a duchess. So very exclusive and all that! I hate exclusiveness, and I can't endure airs and graces. Still, Mrs. Romilly is nice enough in her own way, when one gets used—Are you going to get out here?"
It was a marvel to me that the old lady could keep on so long, with her twinkling black eyes fixed on that face of grave disapproval. I had begun to wonder whether I ought to announce myself openly as the new Glynde House governess, for fear something might be said before me which I had no business to hear. But as I hesitated, the train slackened speed, and Sir Keith stood up to lift down my roll of shawls.
"It is just possible that you may be in time," he said. "Ha! There is a man who will do his best." He threw open the door, handed my shawls to the porter answering his summons, then stepped out himself to assist me. Plainly all this came as a matter of course.
"Glynde train off yet?" he asked.
"No, sir." The porter had touched his cap, with evident recognition and as evident pleasure. "Just going, sir."
"See this lady in, if you please. The luggage will be behind. No time to get a ticket, I fear."
"Thank you very much," I said, and he lifted his hat before returning to his seat. Then followed a rush along the platform, a frantic hauling out of my trunks, a breathless scamper upstairs, over the bridge, down the other side, and I found myself in a first-class compartment with two gentlemen. There had been no leisure to choose. My trunks were flung in, unlabelled; and we were off.
Recovering from the flurry of my chase, I became aware of a gentle little piping masculine voice opposite—