The answer was a second knock, and with an impatient ejaculation the occupant of the chambers threw open the fourth door.
“I forgot the bolt was fastened, Mrs Brade,” he said, as he drew back to admit a plump looking, neatly dressed woman in cap and apron, one corner of which she took up to begin rolling between her fingers as she stood smiling at the edge of the carpet.
“Yes, sir,” she said, “if I might make so bold, and I don’t wonder at it. Oh, my dear—I mean Mr Stratton, sir—how handsome you do look this morning!”
“Why, you silly old woman!” he cried, half laughing, half annoyed.
“Oh, no, excuse me, sir, not a bit. Handsome is as handsome does, they say, and you is and does too, sir, and happiness and joy go with you, sir, and your dear, sweet lady too, sir.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, Mrs Brade, but—”
“I always thought as you would marry some day, sir, as was only natural, but I never thought as a widow would be your lot.”
“Mrs Brade!” cried Stratton impatiently, and with his brows contracting a little. “I am very busy—not a moment to spare.”
“Of course, sir, and no wonder; but I do wish it hadn’t been such a dull morning.”
“Dull?” cried Stratton, rushing to the window; “I thought it was all sunshine.”