"Yes, it does," said Helen. "But I must think it over. Now, would you care to see the rest of the house?"
"I should love to. Oh dear, I've left my handkerchief with my purse in the drawing-room."
"Have mine!" said Helen, promptly.
But even after this final proof of intimate friendship, there still remained an obstinate trifle of insincerity in their relations that afternoon. Helen was sure that Sarah Swetnam had paid the call specially to say something, and that the something had not yet been said. And the apprehension of an impending scene gradually took possession of her nerves and disarranged them. When they reached the attics, and were enjoying the glorious views of the moorland in the distance and of Wilbraham Water in the immediate foreground, Helen said, very suddenly:
"Will the rector be in this afternoon?"
"I should say so. Why?"
"I was thinking we might walk down there together, and I could suggest to him at once about having the concert here."
Sarah clapped her hands. "Then you've decided?"
"Certainly."
"How funny you are, Nell, with your decisions!"