‘Eight miles,’ she answered; ‘and it’s getting rather late.’
I was seated opposite the windows to the park, and, looking up, saw with some dismay that the air was getting dusky. I rose at once, saying—
‘I must make haste. They will think I am lost.’
‘But you can never walk so far, Master Cumbermede.’
‘Oh, but I must! I can’t help it. I must get back as fast as possible.’
‘You never can walk such a distance. Take another bit of cake while I go and see what can be done.’
Another piece of cake being within the bounds of possibility, I might at least wait and see what Mrs Wilson’s design was. She left the room, and I turned to the cake. In a little while she came back, sat down, and went on talking. I was beginning to get quite uneasy, when a maid put her head in at the door, and said—
‘Please, Mrs Wilson, the dog-cart’s ready, ma’am.’
‘Very well,’ replied Mrs Wilson, and turning to me, said—more kindly than she had yet spoken—
‘Now, Master Cumbermede, you must come and see me again. I’m too busy to spare much time when the family is at home; but they are all going away the week after next, and if you will come and see me then, I shall be glad to show you over the house.’