Delia smiled to herself as she watched her visitor’s portly form out of sight. How very little it would matter to the Professor whether the Palmers sent him an invitation or not! He would not even notice the absence of one. He had never cultivated the habit of feeling himself injured, and was happily placed far above the miseries of fancied slights and neglect. Nevertheless she resented, as she always did, the tone of condescension with which Mrs Winn had mentioned him, and returned to the drawing-room with a ruffled brow and a vexed spirit.
Mrs Hunt still slumbered peacefully, quite undisturbed by the little agitations of Dornton. As her daughter entered, she gently opened her eyes.
“Del, my love,” she murmured, “I meant to ask you to go and inquire how Mrs Hurst’s little boy is this morning. Did I?”
“No, mother,” said Delia.
“There’s a beautiful jelly made for him,” said Mrs Hunt, closing her eyes again, and folding her hands in front of her comfortable person. “I thought you might take it.”
“I passed the door this morning,” said Delia. “I could easily have taken it if you had remembered to ask me. It’s so late now.”
“It won’t keep firm this hot weather,” continued Mrs Hunt’s sweet, low voice. “He ought to have it to-day.”
Delia did not answer. She was tired. It was hot. Mrs Winn’s visit had come at the close of a most irksome afternoon. She was longing for a little quiet time for her music.
“Poor Mrs Hurst!” pursued her mother. “So many children, and so few to help her. Johnnie’s been worse the last day or two.”
As usual on such occasions, Delia shortly found herself, basket in hand, making her way along the dusty High Street to Mrs Hurst’s house. Dornton and the Dornton people seemed to her at that moment almost unbearable. Should she ever get away from them? she wondered. Would her life be spent within the hearing of Mrs Winn’s sententious remarks, the tedious discussions of tiny details, the eternal chatter and gossip, which still seemed to buzz in her ears, from the meeting that afternoon? Then her thoughts turned to their usual refuge, the Professor, and she began to plan a visit to Anna at Waverley. Since her last talk with him, she had made up her mind that she would do her very utmost to renew their old friendliness. She would not take offence so easily, or be so quick to resent it, when Anna did not see things as she did. She would be patient, and she would keep her promise to the Professor. She would try to understand. For his sake she would humble herself to make the first advance, and this, for Delia’s somewhat stubborn spirit, was a greater effort than might be supposed.