"And, knowing her, you want to see her"
Astonished, Miss Port replied, "Of course."
"Very well, then," said he; "beyond that clump of bushes is a seat. She sits thereon. Accept my condolences."
"I will remember every word of that," said Miss Port to herself, "but I haven't time to think of it now. He's just ravin'."
Olive had just had an interview with Mr. Locker which, in her eyes, had been entirely too protracted, and she had sent him away. He had just made her an offer of marriage, but she had refused even to consider it, assuring him that her mind was occupied with other things. She was busy thinking of those other things when she heard footsteps near her.
"How do you do" said Miss Port, extending her hand.
Olive rose, but she put her hands behind her back.
"Oh!" said Miss Port, dropping her hand, but allowing herself no verbal resentment. She had come there for information, and she did not wish to interfere with her own business. "I happened to be here," she said, "and I thought I'd come and tell you how your uncle is. He took dinner with us yesterday, and I was sorry to see he didn't have much appetite. But I suppose he's failin', as most people do when they get to his age. I thought you might have some message you'd like to send him."
"Thank you," said Olive with more than sufficient coldness, "but I have no message."
"Oh!" said Miss Port. "You're in a fine place here," she continued, looking about her, "very different from the toll-gate; and I expect the Easterfields has everything they want that money can more than pay for." Having delivered this little shot at the reported extravagance of the lady of the manor, she remarked: "I don't wonder you don't want to go back to your uncle, and run out to take the toll. It must have been a very great change to you if you're used to this sort of thing."