He held open the door for his wife to enter, and then followed and locked it, and for some hours the Manor House was very still.
The next morning James Wilton was out a couple of hours before breakfast, busying himself around his home farm as if nothing whatever had happened and there was no fear of a foreclosure, consequent upon any action by John Garstang. He was back ready for breakfast rather later than his usual time, just as Mrs Wilton came bustling in to unlock the tea-caddy, and he nodded, and spoke rather gruffly:
“Claud not down?” he said.
“No, my dear; I saw you coming across the garden just as I was going to his room to see how he was.”
“Oh, Samuel,”—to the man, who entered with a dish and hot plates,—“go and tell Mr Claud that we’re waiting breakfast.”
The man went.
“Let me go up, my dear. Poor boy! he must feel a bit reluctant to come down and meet you this morning.”
“Poor fellow! he always was afflicted with that kind of timid shrinking,” said Wilton, ironically. “No, stop. How is Kate?”
“I don’t know, my dear; Eliza said that she had been twice to her room, but she was evidently fast asleep, and she would not disturb her.”
“Humph! I shall be glad when she can come regularly to her meals.”