She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he might send a servant with it to Highmore at once.
“Oh, mamma!” said he, “I never thought you would do that: how good you are! You couldn't ask Ruperta, could you? Just in a little postscript, you know.”
Lady Bassett shook her head.
“That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook that fish for you, not frighten her away.”
Great was the astonishment at Highmore when a blazing footman knocked at the door and handed Jessie the letter with assumed nonchalance, then stalked away, concealing with professional art his own astonishment at what he had done.
It was no business of Jessie's to take letters into the drawing-room; she would have deposited any other letter on the hall table; but she brought this one in, and, standing at the door, exclaimed, “Here a letter fr' Huntercombe!”
Richard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Ruperta, all turned upon her with one accord.
“From where?”
“Fr' Huntercombe itsel'. Et isna for you, nor for you, missy. Et's for the mesterress.”
She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett and laid the letter down on the table; then drew back a step or two, and, being Scotch, coolly waited to hear the contents. Richard Basset, being English, told her she need not stay.