"That is frightful English!" he exclaimed, impatiently. "I never can dictate properly, I must always write myself or my ideas do not flow."
"If the substance is all right and it is just the English you want regulated, I can do that when I copy it out."
He looked at her in doubt, and Katherine smiled to herself—this flattered her.
"It would be awfully kind of you if you would, though," he went on, hesitatingly. "I have kept them waiting a quarter of an hour as it is. Could you do it immediately and send it in to the dining-room by one of the footmen? I have my fountain-pen with me, I will sign it there. It is to be addressed to the Editor of the Times."
"Yes, I will."
Mr. Strobridge thanked his aunt's new secretary courteously as he went towards the door, and then he left the room. At the moment of his exit, Katherine Bush heard the sound of voices, male and female; they were evidently going in to dinner without waiting for him. She looked up at the clock, it was ten minutes to nine; then she smiled again and, going to the writing-table, she began her task, a very simple one to her who was accustomed to frame euphonious sentences. And when she had completed it, she went back into the secretary's room and rang the bell.
"This is to be taken to Mr.—is his name Strobridge?—Lady Garribardine's nephew," she told the astonished Thomas.
"Yes, miss. Her Ladyship's nephew is the Honourable Mr. Gerard Strobridge—if you mean him."
"Yes, I do—he is dining here and wants it at once."
She made no further explanation, but took up the paper and reseated herself in her chair by the fire; and Thomas could but obey orders.