A course of action intensely irritating to Miss Gallup, who awaited his return, after seeing the Ffolliots off, with the utmost impatience.
"Wherever could he have got to?"
Em'ly-Alice, however, was longing to be questioned, and Miss Gallup indulged her.
"How did the poor young gentleman break his arm?"
"Fell off 'is bike, 'e did, and it must 'ave bin but a minute or two after the young lady'd gone——
"Young lady! What young lady?" Miss Gallup demanded sternly.
"A young lady as come to see Mr Gallup. Miss Buttermish was 'er name;
I remember it most pertikler, because I thought what a funny name."
"Buttermish, Buttermish," Miss Gallup repeated; "where did she come from?"
"That I can't tell you, Miss; I was in the kitchen polishing the teapot for your tea when there comes a knock at the door, and when I opens it, there stood the young lady. 'Can I see Mr Gallup?' she says, and knowing he was in the parlour I as't her in. She didn't stop long and no sooner was she gone than I hears Mr Gallup runnin' upstairs an' in and out, and presently 'e called out, 'Master Ffolliot's broken 'is arm,' and went off in ever such an 'urry. I see 'im run down the garden, and 'e 'ad 'is portmanteau in 'is 'and——"
"Nonsense," Miss Gallup said crossly; "what would he be doing with a portmanteau?"