“Well?” she said, looking at him interrogatively.
“Well?” he replied, drawing himself full up.
“I saw you talking to my mistress,” said Hester. “Were you asking a favour?”
“Yes and no,” replied Jacob. “One of my relations is ill, and I am anxious to go to town to see her. Mrs. Ferguson would not let me off because of all this fuss in connection with the big ball, so I went to Mrs. Rowton.”
“How sly of you,” said Hester. “Of course, she, poor weakling, gave you leave.”
“You ought not to speak of your mistress like that, Miss Winsome. Yes, she gave me leave. She is a kind-hearted young lady. I’m off to town in an hour. Shall I bring you a pretty trifle when I return?”
“That’s as you please,” answered Hester, with a smile. “I may be going to town on my own account before long,” she added. “I am rather tired of Rowton Heights. It don’t seem the right sort of place for a girl like me. There’s nothing to excite one here—at least, nothing to excite one who has been used to London ways.”
Jacob smiled.
“You’ll have plenty of excitement next week,” he said, “when all the grand folks are down. The house will be chock full, like an egg full of meat.”
“Yes, won’t it?” said Hester. “They’re putting up beds everywhere. Now, don’t it seem stupid to crowd people like that when the Queen Anne wing would hold three or four more of the guests? Why cannot beds be put in the Queen Anne wing?”