He was at the door, holding it open. "Yes, but—in the afternoon, if we may. I am not an early riser, and I don't feel very lively in the mornings."
"Ah," she thought as she went upstairs, "he wouldn't have said that to my mother. He's getting old: but never mind, I'm like a lady in a romance! I believe he loved my mother and I'll make him love me."
CHAPTER VII
She was not allowed time for that achievement. On the morning of the day which was to have been productive of so much happiness, the postman brought a letter with a foreign stamp, and Miriam took it to the kitchen where her stepmother and Helen were discussing meals.
"A letter," Miriam said flippantly, "from Italy."
"Thank you, Miriam. Put it on the table." The faint colour our deepened on her cheeks. "I'm afraid one of you will have to go into the town again. I forgot to ask Rupert to order the meat. Miriam—"
"No, I can't go. I'm engaged to Uncle Alfred."
"I think we might easily persuade him to excuse you. He really dislikes walking, though he would not say so."
"Or," Helen said with tact, "we could get chickens from Lily Brent. Wouldn't that be better?"