"Do, dear, and come to our Harvest Home. It will be quite artistic: you have no idea of Henry's perfect taste, and if Bella comes I shall be glad to see her, in spite of her nasty behaviour, and—and——" Mrs. Vand could think of nothing more to say, so took herself off, with a gracious smile, quite sure that she had played the part of a great lady to perfection.
"Ugh!" said Dora, looking after the stout, gaudily-clothed figure, "you're a spiteful cat, if ever there was one. I shouldn't be surprised to hear that you had killed your brother yourself, in order to get the money."
Unaware of this amiable speech, Mrs. Vand sailed grandly through the village, dispensing smiles and patronage. Fortunately for herself, she was not a thought-reader, or her self-satisfaction might have received a severe reproof. She was considered to be considerably worse than Jezebel, and in her stoutness was compared to the late Mrs. Manning, a notable murderess. To her face many were agreeable, but usually she was not received with the best grace. Finally, towards the evening, she returned to the Manor-house to report on her triumphs.
Crossing the boundary-channel, she saw the boat which her husband had lately bought. It was a narrow but comfortable craft of a light build, and the water-way was quite broad enough to permit of its being rowed very comfortably, even though the oars occasionally touched the banks. Mrs. Vand looked at this boat with a singular expression, and then, stepping across the planks, walked up to her lordly abode. She found that her husband was absent, and had left word with the servant that he would not be back to dinner. Mrs. Vand was annoyed, as she did not like eating alone; but in her heart of hearts she was afraid of her quiet husband, even though he was considerably her junior, and made no comment. However, the servant who brought in the seven o'clock tea had much to say, and Mrs. Vand permitted her to talk, for, as usual, the sinister influence of the Manor was getting on her healthy nerves.
"Master's gone to the village, to see his ma," said the servant, who was small and elfish and somewhat brazen. "Then he's going to see Tunks."
"What's the matter with Tunks?" asked Mrs. Vand, pouring out the tea.
"He's ill. He's been drinking hard for weeks, ever since that horrid murder, mum, and now the doctor says he's got delirious trimmings."
Mrs. Vand looked up sharply, and frowned. "He is raving?"
"Raving hard, mum. But master will see that he is looked after."
"Your master is very good," said Mrs. Vand, taking a piece of bread. "You can go, Sarah."