"What's she like?" said he.
"What's who like?" replied Mr. French, who at the moment was discussing turnips.
"The governess."
"I haven't seen her yet," said Mr. French, "but her name is Grimshaw, and she's over forty."
At this news Mr. Giveen clapped his hat on his head and made for the open French window. "I'll see you to-morrow," he cried back as he disappeared amidst the rose trees.
Mr. French chuckled.
Then through the same window he passed into the garden, and thence to the stable-yard, where he found Moriarty, who was standing at the harness-room door engaged in cleaning a bit.
"Moriarty," said Mr. French, "you'll take the car to the station to meet the half-past five train."
"Yes, sir," said Moriarty. "Any luggage?"