Mrs. Hastings regarded him thoughtfully. “I wonder if you know what Gregory did with those mittens?”
“I’m rather pleased that I can assure that I don’t.”
“Do you imagine that he kept them?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t an opinion on that point.”
“Still, if I said that I felt certain he had given them to somebody you would have some idea as to who it would probably be?”
“Well,” confessed Sproatly reluctantly, “if you insist upon it, I must admit that I could make a guess.”
Mrs. Hastings smiled in a manner which suggested comprehension. “So could I,” she said. “I shouldn’t wonder if we both guessed right. Now you may as well go back to the others.”
Sproatly, who made no answer, turned away, and he was talking to Agatha when, half an hour later, a wagon drew up outside the door. In another minute or two he leaned forward in amused expectation as Sally walked into the room.
“I’m going on to Lander’s, and just called to bring back the mat you lent us,” she said to Mrs. Hastings. “Sproatly was to have come for it, but he didn’t?”
Sproatly, who said he was sorry, fixed his eyes on her. It was clear to him that Agatha did not understand the situation, but he fancied that Sally was filled with an almost belligerent satisfaction. She was wearing a smart fur cap, and in one hand she carried a pair of new fur mittens which she had just taken off. Sproatly, who glanced at them, noticed that Winifred did the same. Then Mrs. Hastings spoke.