“This is from Colonel Chalmers. He has just returned to England, and——”
“I don't care what he has done,” Mrs. Bechcombe interrupted. “I really only came in to tell you that I do not feel well enough to attend to letters or anything else this morning. So you need not stay—it will give you a little more time to yourself.”
“Thank you very much.” Cecily hesitated. “But can I not do anything for you, Mrs. Bechcombe? Perhaps if your head is bad again, you might let me read to you.”
“No, no! I could not stand it. It would drive me mad,” Mrs. Bechcombe responded, with the irritability that was becoming habitual with her. “No, when I feel like this, I must be alone. I mean it.”
Cecily was nothing loath to leave her work and go out into the air. It was a lovely day. The sky was blue as Londoners seldom see it, tiny fleecy clouds of white just floating across it emphasizing the depth of colour. Spring seemed to be calling to the youth in her to come into the country and rejoice with the new life that was springing into being everywhere. And Cecily must go to Burford. She had intended to go when her day's work was over, but now she could start at once. Like a great black thundercloud over the brightness of the day the thought of Burford and of her errand there overhung everything. She made up her mind to take the first train down and get the thing over.
She made her way to the station at once. Trains to Burford ran frequently and she had not long to wait. She occupied the time by getting a cup of tea and a bun in the refreshment room, but though she had had nothing but a piece of dry toast for her breakfast she could not eat. She only crumbled the bun, one of the station variety, while she drank the tea thirstily. She did not notice that a shabbily dressed small boy who had been loitering outside the house in Carlsford Square had dogged her steps to the station and now sat reading a dilapidated copy of “Tit-Bits” outside on the seat nearest the refreshment room.
The station for Burford was soon reached. Cecily, who was fond of walking, made up her mind to walk to Rose Cottage instead of taking the shabby one-horse cab that stood outside the station, but she was out of practice and she was distinctly tired when she reached her destination.
The housekeeper received her with evident amazement.
“Miss Hoyle! Well, I never! And I have been expecting your pa down every day this past week!”
“Well, I have come instead, you see. I hope I am not a dreadful disappointment,” Cecily said, calling up a smile with an effort as she shook hands. She did not know much of Mrs. Wye and what little she did know she did not much like, but she knew that the woman had been a long time with her father and felt that it behoved her to make herself pleasant.