“Yes, mother.” She put her head into the room. “Oh!” Mr. Povey was assuming his coat.
“Mr. Povey is going to the dentist’s.”
“Yes, I’m going at once,” Mr. Povey confirmed.
“Oh! I’m so GLAD!” Constance exclaimed. Her face expressed a pure sympathy, uncomplicated by critical sentiments. Mr. Povey rapidly bathed in that sympathy, and then decided that he must show himself a man of oak and iron.
“It’s always best to get these things done with,” said he, with stern detachment. “I’ll just slip my overcoat on.”
“Here it is,” said Constance, quickly. Mr. Povey’s overcoat and hat were hung on a hook immediately outside the room, in the passage. She gave him the overcoat, anxious to be of service.
“I didn’t call you in here to be Mr. Povey’s valet,” said Mrs. Baines to herself with mild grimness; and aloud: “I can’t stay in the shop long, Constance, but you can be there, can’t you, till Mr. Povey comes back? And if anything happens run upstairs and tell me.”
“Yes, mother,” Constance eagerly consented. She hesitated and then turned to obey at once.
“I want to speak to you first, my pet,” Mrs. Baines stopped her. And her tone was peculiar, charged with import, confidential, and therefore very flattering to Constance.
“I think I’ll go out by the side-door,” said Mr. Povey. “It’ll be nearer.”