“Of course. We have calculated on your help. Will you come to the hotel for me?”
“Here! Hold on bit!” cried Aunt Josepha. “Am I invited, or not?”
“Certainly, Josepha,” answered Mistress Annis very promptly. “We cannot do without you. You will go with us, of course.”
“Well, as to-morrow is neither Wednesday, nor Friday, I may do so—but I leave myself free. I may not go.”
“Why would Wednesday and Friday be objectionable, Josepha?”
“Well, Annie, if thou hed done as much business with the world as I hev done, thou’d know by this time of thy life that thou couldn’t make a good bargain on either o’ them days. There’s some hope on a Friday because if Friday isn’t the worst day in the week it’s the very best. There is no perhaps about Wednesday. I allays let things bide as they are on Wednesday.”
“Shall I come here for you, aunt?”
“No, no, Jane. If I go with you I will be at the Clarendon with Annie at half-past nine. If I’m not there at that time I will not be going—no, not for love or money.”
“But you will go the next day—sure?”
“Not a bit of sureness in me. I doan’t know how I’ll be feeling the next day. Take off your bonnet and cape, Jane, and sit down. I want to see how you look. We’ll hev our little talk and by and by a cup of tea, and then thou can run away as soon as tha likes.”