But he had no intention of going, and Mr. Brander asked him rather curtly what he came for.
“Oh, my business is of no consequence; it will do any time,” answered Mr. Williams, still with his light eyes fixed upon Olivia.
“Very likely. But what is it?” asked Mr. Brander, still more shortly.
“Oh, my father wants to see you about something. It’s about the church, I believe; your church, St. Cuthbert’s. He wants to do something for it, I fancy; says the condition it’s in is a disgrace to the neighborhood.”
Again Olivia saw on Mr. Brander’s face a glimpse of fierce anger, with which, however, she this time heartily sympathized. Feeling very uncomfortable, she rose and held out her hand to the clergyman. His face cleared as he took it.
“Now, don’t worry yourself too much about the wretched furniture,” he said, with his old kindliness. “As you go down the hill, mind you stop where the roads cross. There’s a wishing-cap hangs on the hedge just there. If you see it, put it on; if you don’t, make the motion of putting it on, and at the same time say these words just under your breath, ‘I wish that within an hour I may be installed very comfortably!’”
“Thank you,” said Olivia, laughing and returning the pressure of his hand warmly; “if the wishing-cap could bring that to pass, I should begin to look with respect on a broomstick.”
Mr. Williams’ face had assumed during these two last speeches an expression of mingled bewilderment and contempt. As the lady moved towards the door, he followed without having once taken his eyes off her.
“Will you be able to find your way?” asked Mr. Brander, as he opened the study door.
“I’ll go with you; I’ll escort you. Which way are you going?” asked Mr. Williams, eagerly. “To the Hall, eh? I go past it; don’t I, Brander?”