"Yes," she answered. "I am fonder than—" And then she stopped herself suddenly and flared scarlet. "Who are you talking about?" she demanded.
"This young man of yours," I said. "Mr.—What's his name—Onions?"
"Oh, that?" she answered. "Oh, yes; he's all right."
"And if he wasn't?" I said, and she looked at me hard.
"I told him," she said, "that if he would do what I asked him to do, I'd marry him. And he seems to have done it."
"There are ways of doing everything," I said; and, seeing it wasn't going to break her heart, I told her just the plain facts. She listened without a word, and when I had finished she put her arms round my neck and kissed me. I am old enough to be her grandfather, but twenty years ago it might have upset me.
"I think I shall be able to save Miss Bulstrode that three hundred pounds," she laughed, and ran upstairs and changed her things. When later I looked into the kitchen she was humming.
Mr. John came up by the car, and I could see he was in one of his moods.
"Pack me some things for a walking tour," he said. "Don't forget the knapsack. I am going to Scotland by the eight-thirty."
"Will you be away long?" I asked him.