"Waiting for you—and I'll warrant it."
"I would not say that much, mother. She was out collecting for the new cooking-school. She said she wanted to see you very much."
"And pray what for is she wanting to see me? I am not related to her. I owe her nothing. I'm not going to give her anything and I don't want to see her."
"I suppose she wants your help in this new charity she has on hand. She was very polite, and sent you all kinds of good wishes. There is no harm in good wishes, is there?"
"I'm not so sure of that. If Miss Phyllis gives her good wishes, there's no harm in them, but—but I don't want to buy them at any price. I'll tell you what it is, John—"
But she never told him at that hour, for as she
spoke Harry Hatton opened the door and looked in. "I am wet—dripping wet, mother," he said. "The mizzling rain turned to a downpour when I was halfway up the hill, but I will be ready for dinner in twenty minutes."
"And I am not going to keep beef and pudding on the table twenty minutes for you, Harry."
"That's right, mother. I don't deserve it. Send it to the kitchen. I'll have some partridge and pastry when I come down."
He was gone before his mother's answer could leave her lips; but there was a light in her eyes and a tone in her voice that made her a different woman as she said, "We will not talk of Miss Lugur tonight, John. There is plenty else to talk about. She is non-essential, and I believe in the man who said, 'Skip the non-essentials.'"