It was Saturday. Between Egremont and Grail it had been decided that the latter should to-day take Thyrza to inspect the house. Egremont had gained the surly compliance of the caretaker—the most liberal treatment made no difference in the strange old woman's moroseness—and Grail, promising himself pleasure from Thyrza's surprise, said nothing more than that he wished to see her at three in the afternoon.
The sisters did not come home together from their work, Lydia had an engagement with Mrs. Isaacs, of whom we have heard, and went to snatch a pretence of a dinner in a little shop to which she resorted when there was need. Thyrza, leaving the work-room at half-past one, did not take the direct way to Walnut Tree Walk; the sun and the keen air filled her with a spirit of glad life, and a thought that it would be nice to see how her future home looked under the bright sky came to her temptingly. The distance was not great; she soon came to Brook Street and, with some timidity, turned up the narrow passage, meaning to get a glimpse of the house and run away again. But just as she reached the entrance to the rear-yard, she found herself face to face with someone whom she at once knew for the caretaker whom Gilbert had described to her. The old woman's eye held her. She was half frightened, yet in a moment found words.
'Please,' she said—it seemed to her the only way of explaining her intrusion—'is there any one in the school now?'
The old woman examined her, coldly, searchingly.
'No, there ain't,' she replied. 'Is it you as is a-goin' to live here?'
This was something like witchcraft to Thyrza.
'Yes, I am,' fell from her lips.
'All right. You can go in and look about. I ain't get nothink to hide away.'
Thyrza was in astonishment, and a little afraid. Yet she dearly wished to see the interior of the house. The old woman turned, and she followed her.
'There ain't no need for me to go draggin' about with you,' said the caretaker, when they were within the door. 'I've plenty o' work o' my own to see to.'