"Don't let them worry you," Camilla said to Caroline. "Dennis will take them off your hands."
However, it seemed that Caroline had no intention of calling Dennis to the rescue, so Mrs. Lancing went downstairs, and wore a very triumphant expression as she entered the drawing-room.
"Believe it or not, just as you like, but it is a fact that that girl is absolutely happy with the children," she declared. "You ought to be pleased, Agnes. You pretended you were sorry for her. Can't you imagine the sort of existence that she has had in Mrs. Baynhurst's house. Well, here at least she will be treated like a human being." Then abruptly Camilla crossed the room, and sat down at her writing-table. "I am going to write to Mr. Haverford," she said, "and then I hope you will be satisfied, you dear old fidgety frump."
The note written, she had it despatched by a cab, and requested that an answer might be sent back.
"I don't see what earthly objection he can have," Camilla said, "but if he has any—well, now let him speak, or for ever hold his peace."
The cab came back in a very little while, bringing the information that Mr. Haverford had been called to the north unexpectedly. Further, it appeared that the butler had added that Mr. Haverford intended going to Paris when he came down from the north.
Mrs. Brenton smiled as she sipped her tea.
"That means he intends to see his mother, and go thoroughly into this Graniger business. There are no half measures with him."
Camilla moved petulantly.
"Oh! we all know by this time that you think him a paragon of perfection.... He is just your pet idea of what a man should be—solid, stodgy, prosaic. A creature as flat, and as level, and as enduring, and as uninteresting as a Roman road."