“It’s a caprice, you may be sure,” she answered slowly. “I am not a man, to act upon mere reason.”
Crispin gave a great roar of derisive laughter, shocking the girl, who hopped down the rest of the stairs as fast as possible and ran, almost breathless, into the room she had been in before. Mrs. Bean was bringing in some cold meat and eggs, and she turned, with an alarmed exclamation at sight of her.
“Bless the girl!” she cried. “Why didn’t you wait till I came to you? I have a bundle of dry clothes waiting outside, and now you’ll catch your death of cold, sitting in those wet things!”
“Oh, no, I sha’n’t,” said Freda, “we were not brought up to be delicate at the convent, and it was only the edge of my dress that was wet.”
Mrs. Bean was going to insist on sending her upstairs again, when Crispin, who had followed them into the room, put an end to the discussion by drawing a chair to the table and making the girl sit down in it.
“Have you had your tea?” asked Freda.
“I don’t want any tea,” said he gruffly. “I’ve got to pack up my things; I’m going away to-night.”
“Going away!” echoed Freda rather regretfully.
“Well, why shouldn’t I? I’m sure you’ll be very happy here without me.” And, without further ceremony, he left the room.
Mrs. Bean made a dart at the table, swooped upon a plate and a knife which were not being used, and with the air of one labouring under a sudden rush of business, bustled out after him.