Mrs. Eldridge got up. "It is time we were going," she said, and Lady Eldridge did not ask her to stay longer, though it was not later than half-past ten, and their parties did not usually break up so early. Norman looked quickly from one to the other, and said: "All right; I'll go and get the car. I shall be ready by the time you've got your bonnet and spencer on, Aunt Cynthia."
Their light cloaks were in the hall. Pamela went out to get hers, and Judith followed her, Mrs. Eldridge lingering behind. "William went to see Edmund on his way home," Lady Eldridge said to her; "and they have quarrelled. Oh, Cynthia, do put it right! I'll do all I can. We mustn't stay here now, or the girls will suspect something."
She had spoken with great earnestness, though hurriedly, and immediately went into the hall, where she talked to Pamela and Judith until Norman came round with the car. Mrs. Eldridge said nothing; but when she kissed her sister-in-law good-night, she gave her a pressure of the hand, which was returned as warmly.
Pamela sat in front with Norman. The car he was driving was half closed, and the screen behind them allowed them to talk without being overheard by Mrs. Eldridge and Judith. "Father has been with Uncle Edmund," he said, "for nearly an hour. I'm afraid they've had a row."
Pamela had not imagined anything of the sort, and was disagreeably affected. "Oh, they can't have," she said. "Why do you think so?"
"Well, it was odd, his not coming in. And why shouldn't mother have said that he had been at the Hall? And why should she have stayed out with him so long?"
Depression seized upon Pamela. She was young enough to feel rather shocked at the idea of her elders quarrelling, which had never happened at home within her knowledge. The Hall and the Grange had been in such close contact for years past that her uncle and aunt shared something of the feeling that she had for her parents, who had not yet come to be criticized by their children. It was unpleasant to think of them as moved by temper, or more than on the surface by irritation, at least against one another. A rift would affect them all. A disagreeable impression had already been made by Uncle Bill not coming in to see them, for he had always given them such a welcome, and hurried to greet them as if they were a part of his own family, whom he was glad to see again after an absence.
"I suppose it's about that beastly garden," said Norman. "But mother told me he had written to her about it, and said that he wasn't going on with it now. If he went to see Uncle Edmund on his way home, it can only have been to tell him so."
The implied criticism of her father moved Pamela. "It's no use our imagining what it is," she said. "Let's wait until we know."
"Yes; we can't do anything. I suppose mother and Aunt Cynthia can, though. They don't want to quarrel."