‘Ah well! we’ll see. Who knows?’
‘You don’t think he would!’ I exclaimed.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps he might. But I thought you were going abroad soon.’
I had not said anything to her on the subject. I had never had an opportunity.
‘Who told you that, Mrs Wilson?’
‘Never you mind. A little bird. Now you had better go to the library. I dare say you won’t hurt anything, for Sir Giles, although he never looks at the books, would be dreadfully angry if he thought anything were happening to them.’
‘I’ll take as good care of them as if they were my uncle’s. He used to let me handle his as much as I liked. I used to mend them up for him. I’m quite accustomed to books, I assure you, Mrs Wilson.’
‘Come, then; I will show you the way,’ she said.
‘I think I know the way,’ I answered. For I had pondered so much over the place, and had, I presume, filled so many gaps of recollection with creations of fancy, that I quite believed I knew my way all about the house.
‘We shall see,’ she returned with a smile. ‘I will take you the nearest way, and you shall tell me on your honour if you remember it.’