'Oh no, I'll go myself.'
'I'll run—it won't take me a minute!'
She went out by the door that led into the house. In the dark passage she was startled by coming in contact with someone.
'Oh, who is that?'
A muttered reply informed her that it was the old woman. They went forward into the nearest room. There was a disagreeable smile on Mrs. Butterfield's thin lips.
'If you please, have you got a hammer?' Thyrza asked. 'Mr. Egremont wants one.'
The old woman went apart, and returned with a hammer which was used for breaking coals.
'Oh, could you just wipe it?' Thyrza said. 'The handle's so very black.'
It was done, ungraciously enough, and Thyrza hastened back. Egremont was standing as she had left him.
'Ah, now I can manage! Thank you.'