“Right-o!”
He hurried away, with an air of relief. Lady Selina glanced at her late husband’s portrait, frowning, and biting her lips. Then she went back to her desk, reopening the Estate ledger and eyeing it grimly. Before Agatha came in, she took up a cut-glass bottle holding crystals of ammonia in eau de Cologne, and inhaled the pungent fumes. She had not admitted to her son that she was stupefied with astonishment.
Agatha Farleigh, however, found her mistress calm as usual.
The girl approached the desk and stood respectfully at attention.
V
She was the niece of that Timothy Farleigh of whom mention has been made, the father of the two little girls who had died of diphtheria. Timothy’s brother had worked as head carpenter upon the Upworthy estate, but he had died when Agatha was fifteen. Since then the girl had been educated by Lady Selina, and regarded by her as a deserving object. Agatha had good looks and a quick intelligence, which carry a young woman far upon any road. American slang, so descriptive, might have summed her up as a “live wire.” Also, she was discreet, a creature of odd reserves. Lady Selina had come to reckon her as a machine. As a machine Agatha inspired respect. Lady Selina was not addicted to peering beneath the surface of things and people. Her easy habit of mind constrained her to move in what she devoutly called an “appointed” groove. All her servants were well paid, and they remained long in her service because she made them comfortable and disdained espionage. They kept their places in every sense of the word.
Agatha carried a small head upon slender, shapely shoulders. Out of a too pale face glowed a pair of fine grey eyes, set well apart, and indicating breadth of vision. Much to Lady Selina’s satisfaction she wore neat skirts and coats, and serviceable boots. She “did” her hair simply; she kept her nails and teeth clean. Hitherto, intercourse with her mistress had been without friction, and for this blessing Lady Selina thanked herself. There might be moments when the lady of the manor caught a glimpse of the real Agatha, disconcerting moments which aroused apprehension. And then Lady Selina wondered vaguely whether it was wise to give village girls “advantages.” Agatha had a trick of opening expressive eyes too wide when Lady Selina might be laying down her law upon some parochial matter. Did criticism lurk behind this unabashed gaze? Again, the girl read the papers when she might have been better employed with her needle. On the other hand, Agatha’s good memory might be reckoned an asset. She could, and did, put her mistress right upon small matters of fact, tactfully refraining from comment, never obtruding advice. Such qualities carried with them defects. Lady Selina listened to no village tittle-tattle, but she had learnt from Cicely that Agatha Farleigh was a suffragist. When informed of this, the great lady perpetrated a sniff and the austere remark: “I have done much for Agatha, but if she undoes my stitches I cannot hold myself responsible.”
“Take down a letter,” commanded Lady Selina.
Agatha went to her typist’s desk and picked up a stenographer’s notebook and a pencil.
“To John Gridley, The Home Farm.”