“Dear, dear, dear, I do wish that Martha would not be so easily put out.”
Aunt Hannah gave a glance over the table, and placing a fresh bunch of flowers in a vase in the centre, and a tiny bowl of ornamental leaves, such as the doctor admired, by his corner of the table, smiled with satisfaction to see how attractive everything looked. Then she went back to her work in the drawing-room, but only to pop up again and go to the window, open it, and look out at where the doctor was busy with his penknife and some slips of bass, cutting away the old bindings and re-tying some choice newly-grafted pears which had begun to swell and ask for more room to develop.
“It’s getting very nearly tea-time, my dear,” she cried. “Bruff went half an hour ago.”
“Yes, quarter of an hour before his time,” said the doctor. “That’s a curious old silver watch of his, always fast, but he believes in it more than he does in mine.”
“But it is time to come in and wash your hands, love.”
“No. Another quarter of an hour,” said the doctor. “Vane come back?”
“No, dear, not yet. But he must be here soon.”
“I will not keep his lordship waiting,” said the doctor, quietly going on with his tying; and Aunt Hannah toddled back to look at the drawing-room mantel-clock.
“Dear me, yes,” she said; “it is nearly a quarter to six.” Punctually to his time, the doctor’s step was heard in the little hall, where he hung up his hat before going upstairs to change his coat and boots and wash his hands. Then descending.
“Time that boy was back, isn’t it?” he said going behind Aunt Hannah, who was looking out of the window at a corner which afforded a glimpse of the road.