Gratifying as this must have been to the power in question, no miraculous manifestation of joy was forthcoming, and Mrs. Agar cunningly confined herself to a non-committing “Yes.”
After a sigh, Sister Cecilia further expatiated.
“I cannot but think,” she said, “that Stagholme will be in better hands now. Of course dear Jem was very nice, and all that—a dear, good boy. But do you not think that Arthur is more suited to the position in some ways?”
“Perhaps he is,” allowed Mrs. Agar, with ill-concealed pleasure.
“He is,” continued Sister Cecilia, with a broader brush, “so refined, so gentlemanly, so ideal a country squire.”
And after that she had no difficulty in supplying herself with information.
CHAPTER XIII. ON THIN ICE
Treason doth never prosper. What's the reason? For if it prosper, none dare call it treason.