“I might drive you in the pony-cart, Thomas.”
“You’d have to wait and I can’t tell how long I might be kept. No, the lad must drive over, and he can put up the pony at the ‘Angel’ until I’m ready.”
“Will Tucker be able to spare the boy?”
“He must,” said Sir Thomas firmly.
“Then the pony-cart, and the boy, to be round at ten-thirty sharp.”
“Quarter to eleven is quite time enough.”
“Quarter to eleven, then.”
Lady Aviolet read out from the little book:
“The pony-cart to take you to Cheriton at 10.45, with the boy—and lunch had better be half an hour later, in case you can get back for it—the luggage-cart to fetch the Mudie box and the box from the Stores this morning, and the carriage to meet the 2.30 this afternoon. And I suppose this person will take the seven o’clock train back to town. I must find out from Ford. Oh, and the Marchmonts to tea. That’s all, I think.”
No one contributed any further item to the day’s programme.