"Well, I am a little," acknowledged Miss Ronder. "But I shall go to bed early and get a good night."
"You poor dear! I was afraid you'd be absolutely done up. Now, you're not to get up in the morning and I'll run about and do your shopping for you. I insist. How's Mrs. Clay?"
"A little grumpy at having so much to do," said Ronder, "but she'll get over it."
"I'm afraid she's a little ill-tempered at times," said Miss Stiles with satisfaction. "I thought when I came in that she looked out of sorts. Troubles never come singly, of course."
All was well now and Miss Stiles completely satisfied. She admired the room and the Hermes, and prophesied that, after a week or two, they would probably find things not so bad after all. She drank several cups of tea and passed on to general conversation. It was obvious, very soon, that she was bursting with a piece of news.
"I can see, Ellen," said Ronder, humorously observing her, "that you're longing to tell us something."
"Well, it is interesting. What do you think? Falk Brandon has been sent down from Oxford for misbehaviour."
"And who is Falk Brandon?" asked Ronder.
"The Archdeacon's son. His only boy. I've told you about Archdeacon Brandon many times. He thinks he runs the town and has been terribly above himself for a long while. This will pull him down a little. I must say, although I don't want to be uncharitable, that I'm glad of it. It's too absurd the way that he's been having everything his own way here. All the Canons are over ninety and simply give in to him about everything."
"When did this happen?"