“What maybe the rent of such a cottage?” Kingcote inquired carelessly, leaning back in his chair.
“Half-a-crown a week is what Yardley wants for that, I think,” replied the rector.
The guest sat upright.
“Half-a-crown? A delightful little place like that! Six pounds ten a year?”
“I believe so.”
They were rising from the table. Kingcote stood in his place, meditating. Mrs. Vissian again left the room.
“Suppose,” began Kingcote at length, “one took a fancy to live in that cottage, would it be possible to find a labourer’s wife—or some person of that kind—to come and give one say an hour’s service daily?”
“Very possible, I should say,” returned the rector, with some surprise. “Do you contemplate such a step?”
“One might do worse, I fancy,” was Kingcote’s only reply.
Mrs. Vissian returned, bringing with her a large volume, the county history of which her husband had spoken.