"I'm off to London, to-night; must see what can be done for the old dad, you know."
"How shall we explain to Mother? She has been looking forward to your spending your last night at home."
"Roddy will come up by and by with an urgent telephone message. The Mater is so used to that sort of thing that she won't smell a rat."
"How you think of everything, Charley! But I'm afraid Mother will notice something in our manner at dinner."
"Not if we're careful. You take your cue from me. Come along!"
No one would have guessed at that dinner table that anything was amiss. Smith seemed to be in the highest spirits, talking incessantly, describing his sudden descent on Firtop Farm and his interview with the farmer so racily that his mother laughed gently, and even Kate, for all her anxiety, smiled. In the middle of the meal the belated telegram arrived, giving Smith an opportunity for poking fun at official slowness.
Dinner was hardly over when a servant announced that Mr. Rodier was below, asking to see Mr. Smith upon particular business. Smith slowly lighted a cigarette before he left the room. He found Rodier in the hall.
"Got it, Roddy?" he asked.
"Yes, I ask for globe: Mr. Dawkins give me first a pink paper. 'Sad news this!' says he."
"I hope to goodness he'll hold his tongue about it."