Mr. Temple Barholm was already moving about the room, doing odd things for himself rapidly, and he went on speaking.
“I want you and Rose to know,” he said, “that whatever happens, you are both fixed all right—both of you. I've seen to that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pearson faltered, made uneasy by something new in his tone. “You said whatever happened, sir—”
“Whatever old thing happens,” his master took him up.
“Not to you, sir. Oh, I hope, sir, that nothing—”
Mr. Temple Barholm put a cheerful hand on his shoulder.
“Nothing's going to happen that'll hurt any one. Things may change, that's all. You and Rose are all right, Miss Alicia's all right, I'm all right. Come along. Got to catch that train.”'
In this manner he took his departure.
Miss Alicia had from necessity acquired the habit of early rising at Rowcroft vicarage, and as the next morning was bright, she was clipping roses on a terrace before breakfast when Pearson brought her the note.
“Mr. Temple Barholm received a telegram from London last night, ma'am,” he explained, “and he was obliged to take the midnight train. He hadn't time to do any more than leave a few lines for you, but he asked me to tell you that nothing disturbing had occurred. He specially mentioned that everything was all right.”