“I think after breakfast,” she said. “Are there any letters?”
“They are on the table,” Rochester said.
She glanced them through eagerly. When she had come to the last one, she drew a little breath of relief. A tinge of color came into her cheeks.
“You dear people!” she exclaimed, impulsively. “I know I am going to have ever such nice things to thank you for. May I be a child, and put off looking at them until after breakfast? Do you mind, all of you?”
“Of course not,” Vandermere answered. “We want you to tell us how you would like to spend the day.”
“I would like to ride—a long way away,” she declared, breathlessly. “Or the motor-car—I shouldn’t mind that. I should like to go as far away as ever we can, and stay away until it is dark. Could we start directly after breakfast?”
Rochester smiled.
“You can have the car so far as I am concerned,” he said. “I have to go over to Melton to sit on the Bench, and your aunt and I are lunching with the Delameres afterwards. But if you can put up with Vandermere as an escort!”
“I’ll try,” she answered. “Dear Maurice, do order the car for half-an-hour’s time, will you?”
He laughed.