"That does not matter, my dear. Thomas is driving the dogcart and can call for the things. He had better go straight away at once."
Mrs. Aylmer gave directions to the man, who whipped up the horse and disappeared down the avenue.
Bertha felt a momentary sense of despair; then her quick wit came to the rescue.
"I quite forgot to give Thomas a message," she said; "he must have it. Excuse me one minute, Mrs. Aylmer."
Before Mrs. Aylmer could prevent her she was running after the dogcart as fast as she could go. She shouted to Thomas, who drew up.
"Yes, miss," he said; "the mare is a bit fresh; what is it?"
"You must take this parcel; there is a young lady waiting for it at the station: see that she gets it. Get one of the porters to put it into her hand. There is no message; just have the parcel delivered to her."
"But what is the name of the young lady, miss?"
Bertha had not thought of that. She looked back again at the house. Mrs. Aylmer was getting impatient, and was waving her hand to her to come back.
"Her name is Miss Florence Aylmer; see that the parcel is put into her hands: there is no message."