“My dear Delia,” said Mrs Winn, picking it up, and smoothing the leaves, with a shocked look, “the books get worn out quite soon enough, without being tossed about like that.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Delia, humbly.—“But do tell me what it is you mean about Anna Forrest.”
“It’s nothing at all pleasant,” said Mrs Winn, “but as you’re likely to see something of her, you ought to know that I’ve every reason to believe that she’s not quite straightforward. Now, with all your faults, Delia—and you’ve plenty of them—I never found you untruthful.”
She fixed her large, round eyes on her companion for a moment, but as Delia made no remark, resumed—
“On the evening of your last working party but one, Julia Gibbins and I saw Mr Oswald of Leas Farm driving Anna Forrest from the station. Of course, we didn’t know her then. But Julia felt sure it was Anna, and it turned out she was right. Curiously enough, we met Mrs Forrest and the child in Appleby’s shortly after, and Mrs Forrest said how unlucky it had been that there was a confusion about the day of her niece’s arrival, and no one to meet her at the station; but, fortunately, she said, Anna was sensible enough to take a fly, so that was all right. Now, you see, my dear Delia, she didn’t take a fly,” added Mrs Winn, solemnly, “so she must have deceived her aunt.”
Mrs Winn’s most important stories had so often turned out to be founded on mistakes, that Delia was not much impressed by this one, nor disposed to think worse of Anna because of it.
“Oh, I daresay there’s a mistake somewhere,” she said, lightly, rising and picking up her flowers and her violin-case. “I must go now, Mrs Winn; the Professor will be back by the time I get there—good-bye.”
She hurried out of the room before Mrs Winn could begin another sentence; for long experience had taught her that the subject would not be exhausted for a long while, and that a sudden departure was the only way of escape.
A quarter of an hour’s quick walk brought her to Number 4 Back Row, and looking in at the sitting-room window, as her custom was, she saw that the Professor had indeed arrived before her.
His dwelling was a contrast in every way to that of Mrs Winn. For one thing, instead of standing boldly out before the world of Dornton High Street, it was smuggled away, with a row of little houses like itself, in a narrow sort of passage, enclosed between two wide streets. This passage ended in a blank wall, and was, besides, too narrow for any but foot-passengers to pass up it, so that it would have been hard to find a quieter or more retired spot. The little, old houses in it were only one storey high, and very solidly built, with thick walls, and the windows in deep recesses; before each a strip of garden, and a gravel walk stretched down to a small gate. Back Row was the very oldest part of Dornton, and though the houses were small, they had always been lived in by respectable people, and preserved a certain air of gentility.