“We are to send her some. Mr Timmins has sent his clerk down with me, and he is coming back to the house with us now in order that I may pack some of Brenda’s things and send them to town by him. If we are quick we shall catch the half-past seven train, and she will get what things she most requires by to-night.”
“I have a cab waiting for you, my love. This is very unexpected. Did you say Lady Marian Dixie?”
“Yes,” said Florence; “an old friend of my mother’s.”
“Well, you will have a great deal to tell me,” said Mrs Fortescue; “and how very tired you look, dear.”
“I am not specially tired, but I should like to get home as fast as possible in order to give Andrews a trunk full of clothes to take back to Brenda.”
“Oh, surely Brenda won’t be away so long as that.”
Florence made no reply. She motioned to Andrews to get on the box beside the driver, and they returned to Mrs Fortescue’s house almost in silence. Mrs Fortescue felt that something had happened, but did not dare to inquire. She kept repeating to herself at intervals during their drive back—
“Lady Marian Dixie—a friend of the girls’ mother! It sounds very nice; still, it is queer. Surely, surely Mr Timmins could not be so mad as to allow Lady Marian to conduct the girls about in London society! It would be too cruel to me, after all I have done for them.”
When they reached the house, the cabman was desired to wait. Florence ran up to their room and, with Mrs Fortescue’s help, filled a trunk with Brenda’s smartest things. Mrs Fortescue talked all the time, but Florence was almost silent. The trunk was speedily packed, and the old clerk took it back to London with him.
Then the two ladies, the old and the young, went into the drawing-room and faced each other.