Kitty was not sorry to discover that she had only five minutes left for breakfast. She was all apprehension lest her nerves or her looks should betray her. The slightest appearance of cheerfulness, she felt, would alone be fatal. Fortunately, her uncle had left the table, and was immersed in the morning paper at the fireside. Zeniths had fallen half a crown, and it seemed to him the beginning of the end. His niece’s engagement to Symington twelve hours hence would not take place a moment too soon. He never doubted that the girl would give in.
Miss Corrie, silent, her face a melancholy mask, was beginning to tidy up things.
Not a word was spoken during the girl’s brief stay at the table, but when she rose to go to open the office her uncle spoke from behind the paper.
“Ye’ll mind what I told ye?”
Without response she made for the door. And just then her mind was suddenly confronted with a new difficulty. She was expected to be on duty in the post office until 8 p.m. . . . and yet she must have her things packed and be ready for Sam an hour earlier. At the door she turned, feeling it was now or never. In a voice that shook naturally enough she said—
“I don’t think I can stop in the office till eight to-night. I’m too tired.”
There was a silence full of acute suspense, until he returned grudgingly—
“Very well. Your aunt can take charge after tea.”
She hurried away, her heart thumping with relief. She would have nearly an hour and a half to herself before the hour of departure. Heaven help her to keep her self-control till then. She told herself she did not doubt Sam, and yet . . .
“John,” said Miss Corrie, “do ye think she’ll give in?”