'I don't see that I could have acted otherwise,' said Wilfrid, too contented to care about arguing the point.
'You of course saw her parents?'
Wilfrid had given no detailed account of the way in which his interview with Emily had been obtained. He mentioned it now, his father listening with the frowning smile of a man who judges such puerilities from the standpoint of comfortable middle age.
The tone between them returned before long to the friendliness never previously interrupted. Mr. Athel shortly wrote a letter to Mr. Baxendale of Dunfield, whom he only knew by name as Beatrice Redwing's uncle, and begged for private information regarding Emily's family. He received a courteous reply, the details not of course wholly palatable, but confirmatory of the modest hopes he had entertained. This reply he showed to his sister. Mrs. Rossall raised her eyebrows resignedly, and returned the letter in silence.
'What one expected, I suppose?' said Mr. Athel.
'I suppose so. Mr. Baxendale probably thinks the man has been applying for a position in your pantry.'
'Well, I was obliged, you know, to hint at my reasons for seeking information.'
'You did? Then Beatrice knows all about it by this time. As well that way as any other, I suppose.'
'We shall have to take the matter like reasonable beings, Edith,' said her brother, a trifle annoyed by her failure to countenance him.
'Yes; but you seem anxious that I should rejoice. That would not be very reasonable.'