“Ah, well, I expect I shall rest to-night,” said Mrs. Dermot, with her tired smile. “Oh, there you are, Arthur! I was just wondering. And Maggie,—where is she?”
He had entered from the scullery. He stopped beside her chair. “Maggie? I don’t know where Maggie is. Somewhere about, no doubt. How are you, Mother? Better?”
She looked up into his face, and Frances saw the flash of sympathy between them, realized for an instant the closeness of the bond at which till then she had only guessed, and felt as if she had looked upon something sacred.
“I am all right, dear,” said Mrs. Dermot. “I have had a most refreshing sleep, thanks to Miss Thorold’s kindness. Your father will be much better when he wakes.”
“Sit down, Arthur!” said Nell. “We want to begin.”
He glanced round with a quick frown. “Where is everybody? Maggie—Oliver! Why don’t they come in? Go and call them, Elsie!”
“I don’t know where they are,” said Elsie. “I’ve milked the cows and fed the horses and locked up. They went to market this morning, and I haven’t seen them since.”
“Oh, rot!” he said. “They must have come back long ago. They are probably dawdling round somewhere. Has no one seen them? Nell, haven’t you?”
Nell shook her head. “We’ve been busy in the dairy, Lucy and I. Only came in in time to get the supper. What’s it matter? They’ll turn up.”
He turned again to Elsie. “You say you locked up. Was the brown cob back?”