"I wonder whot time the stage goes awff at!"
"It will pass the gate," said Miss Du Plessis, consulting her watch, "in ten minutes."
"Haw, ofally onnoying you know, but I'll hov to pock up and leave before breakfost. Please remember me to Morjorie, will you Cecile, if I shont hov time to see her before I gow."
Mr. Lamb took his morocco slippers back to the house, and soon reappeared at the gate, Gladstone bag and cane in hand, looking at the approaching stage. It was filled up with a roughish crowd, all except one seat in the back, into which he jumped. The driver flicked his horses, and Bridesdale was relieved of the presence of Orther Lom.
"Marjorie," said Miss Du Plessis, "I have bad news for you."
"What is it, Cecile?"
"Your young man has called me by my Christian name, without even putting Miss before it."
"Have you killed him and dug his grave with those eyes of yours?"
"No, I simply told him that Mr. Coristine had returned to Toronto, perhaps on Crown Land business."
"Well?"