The dinner was almost complete when there came a ring at the bell, and Mrs. Blaine went hurriedly to answer the summons, expecting, of course, to see Polly’s slim form standing on the step.
“She’ll just be drenched,” she said to herself, and visions of Polly, indulging in a hot bath and partaking of some of her wonderful herb concoction to ward off a cold, came to her as she went.
The recommendations she had received from Grace to take the greatest care possible of Miss Pennington were translated very literally by the good soul; it was, therefore, with a sincere intention of taking the girl in hand now that Mrs. Blaine opened the door.
The figure on the step was not Polly’s, but a very tall, stalwart individual, who had evidently alighted from the fly that was crawling slowly back to the station.
“How are you, Blainey? I have come down for one night; can you take me in?” asked Valentine, genially.
“Lor’, Mr. Valentine, what a surprise! Come in—come in! Lucky enough I’ve the dining-room floor empty just yesterday. There, I am glad to see you, and that’s the truth, sir. Miss Grace she said nothing about your coming when she wrote yesterday.”
“She did not know it, that’s why,” Valentine explained.
He looked about the small, humbly furnished room with pleasure, all was so bright and fresh, and Blainey’s welcome was so sincere, he felt already better.
“I’m a bit overworked,” he further explained, “and so I ran down here all on the spur of the moment. I know you are always glad to see me, and now you are going to give me one of your own particular little dinners, if it’s no trouble.”
“Nothing’s a trouble for you, or Miss Grace, or Mr. Sacha. I’ve got too good a memory of all the kindness I’ve had from all of you, sir. As I was a-telling Miss Grace’s young lady, when she arrived here yesterday, I——”