"I shall have your room thoroughly turned out, Lettice. It is a good opportunity," said Theodosia, in an unwontedly agreeable manner.
Lettice was perplexed again: since she saw no need for such an opportunity. The room could have been "turned out" any day, without the slightest difficulty. She supposed, however, that in some manner Theodosia meant kindness.
A faultless morning dawned, and the Doctor was early astir, eager as a boy for his treat. He and Lettice were seldom permitted a whole day together, unchecked: and whether he were or were not still judicially "displeased" with the girl, her companionship gave him satisfying pleasure. By nine o'clock breakfast was over, and the Doctor stood upon the front doorstep, basket in hand, with the day's provisions. Lettice ran downstairs, and Theodosia emerged from the breakfast room.
"I suppose I am not to expect you back until dinner-time," she said.
"Hardly! Such a day as this! Come, Lettice. Ready?"
"One moment, Lettice. I want to have all your boxes moved, and one or two are too heavy. Are your keys upstairs?—In case we should have to lift out a few things to lighten them?"
"Tuts, my dear!" remonstrated Dr. Bryant, and a flood of colour rushed into Lettice's face. The Doctor looked at her curiously.
"Are the keys upstairs?" repeated Theodosia.
"I don't think the boxes are so very heavy," faltered Lettice.
"Much too heavy for the maids to drag about," said Theodosia decisively. "Quick—where are the keys?"