"I hope," said Mrs. Wykeham, addressing Anstice with a merry twinkle in her eyes, "that he has prepared you as to the propensities of his small folk. They are exceedingly formidable as foes, but quite engaging as friends."
"I hope I shall find them my friends," said Anstice with her pleasant smile. She was astonished at her own composure, but the fact that her husband was uneasy and uncomfortable, gave her the assurance she needed.
"Have you ever been up in these parts before?" asked Mrs. Wykeham.
"Never," replied Anstice. "It is all new country to me. I am looking forward to seeing the Lake District. I have always heard that it is so lovely!"
"Well, well, I am more glad than I can say, Justin, that you are settling down at last. I shall hope to make my call on Mrs. Holme very soon."
She stepped back to her table, and Justin drew a breath of relief. As he sat down to his tea, he looked across at Anstice, with a queer little smile.
"I hope you know how to hold your own. You will need all your discretion in an interview with Mrs. Wykeham. She is our local gossip, and tells me all the iniquities of my household whenever I set eyes on her. She's good-natured, and a meddler, and she's always upsetting other people's apple-carts. But she's a real friend if you're in trouble—so people say—for myself, I've had no use for her."
"I shall get on very well with her," said Anstice, "and eight miles away is better than at our gates."
He shook his head.
"Eight miles is nothing to her. She'll be perpetually running in and out, you will find. She's one of those poor souls who lives on people, their sayings and doings. I've choked her off when I'm at home; you had better do the same if you want any peace."