The telegram was brief. It simply contained a request on the part of Clara that Mrs. Ives would do nothing until she saw her.
Mrs. Ives once again dipped her pen in the ink and wrote a telegram to Clara.
“Boy gone. Am off now to Pelham Towers to find him. Your mother.”
When she got to Falmouth Mrs. Ives sent off this message. She then took a ticket to Haversham, and in course of time was put down at the little wayside station. It was a long walk from there to the Towers, but when her spirit was up the little woman was good for anything.
Accordingly she was once more trudging down the avenue when Barbara was returning from Exeter. Barbara had had a successful day, and driving back in the pretty pony carriage with her mother wrapped in furs by her side, she was chatting and laughing gaily.
“I do declare,” she said, “there’s that funny little old woman again!”
“What little woman, dear?” said Mrs. Evershed.
“Her name is Ives. What can she want now?”
Barbara pulled up the ponies. She leant out of the carriage.
“Good evening, Mrs. Ives,” she said.