“Why, he’s quite young yet,” laughed Will. “One hundred and fifty-two is his little span, remember.”
She let herself relax under his laughter. “Will they ring a peal of Grandsire Triples at his wedding?” she asked whimsically. Then with renewed anxiety: “Oh, but I do hope it hasn’t all excited him too much,” she cried. “I’d best get home as quick as possible.”
“Home? You don’t mean Blackwater Hall?”
“Where else?”
“You can’t go there. As your Gran’fer remarked to the Master, that’s no place for a respectable female.”
She stared at him. “Besides,” he said, “you don’t want to interfere with the young couple.”
“But I’ve not cooked the dinner!”
“Let the bride do that. She’s as strong as a horse. It’s the best thing that could have happened for both of ’em. After fending for all of us at Rosemary Villa, Blackwater Hall will be a holiday to her.”
“But I must go and see about things. She won’t know where anything is. And even if she cooks the dinner, she’ll want my apron. She can’t spoil her fineries.”
“That’s enough,” he said sternly. “I don’t often quote my father, but I’m bound to say some people are near-sighted and can’t see God, their friend. You’ve done with Blackwater Hall.”