"Yours truly,
"F. G. REDMAIN."
Mary went to her desk and wrote a reply, saying she would be with him the next morning about eleven o'clock. She would have gone that same night, she said, but, as it was Saturday, she could not, because of country customers, close in time to go so far.
"Give it into Mr. Redmain's own hand, if you can, Jemima," she said.
"I will try; but I doubt if I can, miss," answered the girl.
"Between ourselves, Jemima," said Mary, "I do not trust that man Mewks."
"Nobody does, miss, except the master and Miss Yolland."
"Then," thought Mary, "the thing is worse than I had supposed."
"I'll do what I can, miss," Jemima went on. "But he's so sharp!—Mr. Mewks, I mean."
After she was gone, Mary wished she had given her a verbal message; that she might have insisted on delivering in person.