Off scampered Nina. Josephine and Fanchon had a little further conversation, and, by the time Nina returned, the whole matter with regard to Brenda and her shortcoming: was left in the elder sister’s hands.
Chapter Ten.
A Cosy Little Supper.
Mr Amberley was one of the most unsuspicious of men, but he, too, had his own slightly cunning ways. He allowed Brenda so much money each week for housekeeping, and it must be said that she kept the family on short commons. There were even times when the Reverend Josiah was slightly hungry. This being the case, and as he, in reality, held the purse-strings, he was wont to provide himself with bread, butter, and cheese and some bottles of ale which he kept in a private cupboard in his study. By the aid of these, he managed to quell his rising appetite and to sleep soundly at nights.
But Brenda knew nothing of the delicate cheese supply by this reverend gentleman, of the butter which he himself brought home from the nearest dairy, nor of the dainty bread which he slipped into his pocket on his way home from his parochial rounds. Now, however, his intention was to give the pretty little governess a charming surprise when she returned that evening. She should have that rarest of all dainties—in his opinion—Welsh rabbit, made from a receipt handed down to him by his grandmother. Accordingly, by his own clever hands, as the hour approached midnight, he put everything into preparation—the little stove on which the dainty was to be prepared (he regretted much that they must eat it on bread, not on toast), a bottle of the very best ale that could be purchased: in short, a charming little meal for two.
He had missed Brenda sorely during the day. In her presence the girls were quite delightful, but without her they were tiresome, plain, rather disagreeable girls. It was too late to take the pony to the station, but he himself would walk there in order that Brenda should come home under his safe convoy. This plan of his Brenda had not counted on. He took the precaution, indeed, not to appear on the platform, but met her just as she was emerging out of the shade of a thick wood just beyond the village. He thought how charming she looked in her white serge coat—how different from his own unruly girls. But Brenda herself was snappish and by no means inclined to respond to his kind attentions.
“I wish you had not come out, Mr Amberley. It really is ridiculous to suppose that a woman of my age,”—(Brenda was very fond of making herself appear old when she spoke to Josiah)—“a woman of my age,” she continued, “cannot walk the short distance from the station to your house.”
“But at midnight—my dear girl,” protested Josiah, “I really could not hear of it. I hope I know what is due to any girl whom I respect, and it is only a pleasure to serve you—you know that.”