“Then it is settled?” asked Mrs. Wilson. “I am very glad. And when will you come to me, my dear Miss Heriton? I am very busy getting the house into order—Orwell Court, you know. And your advice and suggestions in the arrangement of the books and pictures will be such an assistance to me. Could you come to-morrow?”
“Orwell Court!” Florence repeated. “I thought—that is, I understood——” And then, ashamed to repeat Mrs. Bick’s gossiping and apparently mistaken details, she hastily said: “Not to-morrow, but the following day, if you like. Mrs. Bick’s sister will be here by that time; I should not care to leave her alone.”
“Very well. Then a carriage shall be sent for you and your trunks at whatever hour will suit you,” Mrs. Wilson answered. When this point was settled she turned to Mr. Lumley, who was waiting to hand her into their vehicle, and said, with a little air of triumph: “You can’t think how glad I am that we have arranged this business so nicely. I was quite worried about it, and have wished over and over again that Mr. Aylwinne had not delegated it to me.”
Florence, who was fastening her brooch, looked up so inquiringly that the lady saw it and kindly asked:
“What is it, my dear? Is there anything I have forgotten to say?”
“Only that I do not know who Mr. Aylwinne is, or what he has to do with our arrangements.”
Mrs. Wilson looked dreadfully perplexed, and arrested Mr. Lumley’s movements as he was leading her to the door.
“Haven’t you told Miss Heriton? Haven’t you explained to her?”
“My dear madam,” answered the clergyman, whose patience was fast waning, “I have had no opportunity for explanation. I left all that sort of thing to you.”
“And she does not even know who Mr. Aylwinne is!” cried Mrs. Wilson, in dismay.