“I shall be going up to Foxhills some time to-day. I always go up to dust Derek's rooms, you know,” she continued.
“What on earth do you do that for?” her brother demanded in an exasperated tone. “Are you training for a housemaid's place? I hear there's a shortage in that line, but you hardly seem to be a useful kind of recruit, Jay.”
“I've always looked after Derek's rooms. When he was here at Foxhills in the old days, I never allowed anyone to lay a finger on his study. I knew just how he liked his things kept, and I wouldn't have maids fussing round, displacing everything.”
“Oh, of course you doted on the boy,” her brother retorted. “But it seems a bit unnecessary at this time of day.”
“Unnecessary? Just when Derek has come back?”
Paul Fordingbridge made no attempt to conceal his gesture of annoyance; but he refrained from reopening the sore subject.
“Well, if you come across Peter, you can send him down to me. I haven't seen him since we came here, and I may as well have a talk about things. Probably there are one or two repairs that need considering. Perhaps you could go round by his cottage and make sure of getting hold of him.”
Miss Fordingbridge nodded her assent.
“I'll be quite glad to have a talk with Peter. He'll be so delighted to know that Derek's back at last. It was only the other day that we were talking about Derek together. Peter thinks there's no one like him.”
“All the more reason for saying nothing, then. If it turns out that it isn't Derek, it would disappoint Peter badly if you'd raised his hopes.”