"Tell them?" repeated Nancy, "let me think! Tell them, that Sir Dudley and I were left behind,—thanks to Saxton's mistake, and that I was obliged to remain at the cottage for the night; but that Sir Dudley made his way to the nearest station, and went up to London. Do you think that will do?"
"It may pass! but what about his sending for his own car?"
"I don't suppose that will come out till later."
"No! Of course the servants will talk,—but their masters and mistresses who are leaving me to-day are bound to believe my version of the adventure,—the least they can do after a week's hospitality!"
"Then I shall hurry off and have my bath, and dress," said Nancy, "and come down as soon as possible, and show myself. It will be rather a strain, all things considered, for just at present, I should like to go away, and have a really good comfortable cry."
CHAPTER XXXVI
"TO HIM WHO WAITS——"
Mrs. Bode's motley collection of good old "bits" of glass and china, odds and ends of quaint rubbish—samplers, beads, monster shells, mouldy books of great age, and Mrs. Bode's funny talk, had kept Nancy well amused, and occupied for nearly an hour, and then her hostess insisted on providing a meal, tea, home-made bread, fresh butter, russet apples, and cold bacon. With considerable pomp this simple repast, borne on a huge black tray,—was carried to the front sitting-room, or parlour, and there laid out upon a fine gate table,—flanked by cottage Chippendale chairs. From the deep narrow window, overlooking the road, Nancy leant out, and beckoned gaily to Sir Dudley,—who all this time had been pacing to and fro, smoking endless cigarettes.
As Nancy poured out tea, and he took a place opposite, she wondered if by any chance, Mrs. Bode would take them for husband and wife? Mrs. Bode, having as she considered, "done her manners," and pressed jam, bacon, and apples, in turn upon Sir Dudley, with an excuse about a sick calf, left them to their own devices. Sir Dudley appeared unusually silent and restless, he refused tea, but munched an apple, and then got up and began to pace about the long low room. His manner was that of a man, whose nerves were on edge.