'Do you think I ought to shake hands with Mr. Egremont?' Thyrza asked.
'If he offers to, you must,' was Lydia's opinion. 'But not if he doesn't.'
'He did when he said good-bye at the school.'
Before long they heard the expected double knock at the house-door. They had left their own door ajar that they might not miss this signal. Thyrza sprang to the head of the stairs and listened. She heard Gilbert admit his visitor, and she heard the latter's voice. It was now a month since the meeting at the school, but the voice sounded so exactly as she expected that it brought back every detail of that often-recalled interview, and made her heart throb with excitement.
She was now to wait a whole quarter of an hour.
'Sit down and read,' said Lydia, who had herself begun to sew in the usual methodical way.
Thyrza pretended to obey. For two minutes she sat still, then asked how they were to know when a quarter of an hour had passed.
'I'll tell you,' said the other. 'Sit quiet, there's a good baby, and I'll buy you a cake next time we go out.'
Thyrza drew in her breath—and somehow the time was lived through.
'Now I think you may go,' Lydia said.