“She can’t mean any other train. There is no other. Only probably she’s been looking at the wrong time-table,” Janet reassured her mother.
“Because if the poor little thing found no one to meet him at Knype—”
“Don’t worry, dear,” said Janet. “The poor little thing would soon be engaging somebody’s attention. Trust him!”
“But has she been writing to you lately?” Mrs Orgreave questioned.
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Don’t ask me!” said Janet. “No doubt I shall get a letter to-morrow, after George has come and told us everything! Poor dear, I’m glad she’s doing so much better now.”
“Is she?” Edwin murmured, surprised.
“Oh yes!” said Janet. “She’s got a regular bustling partner, and they’re that busy they scarcely know what to do. But they only keep one little servant.”
In the ordinary way Janet and Edwin never mentioned Hilda to one another. Each seemed to be held back by a kind of timid shame and by a cautious suspicion. Each seemed to be inquiring: “What does he know?” “What does she know?”