“Perfectly,” said Mr. Davis. “Of course, if there had been trustees——”
“But there aren’t, thank goodness,” said Miss Mason. “Remember, ten o’clock Friday morning I’ll be with you.”
Mr. Davis found himself dismissed; and he left the studio wondering how a woman who eighteen months ago did not know how to fill up a cheque should suddenly have become so remarkably decided regarding business matters, and utterly refuse to listen to common-sense statements on his part.
As soon as he had gone Miss Mason wrote to Sara.
“My dear Duchessa,” she wrote, “will you do an old woman a favour and come to tea with her on Friday next at four o’clock. I want to see you on a particular matter. If you are engaged on Friday will you very kindly appoint some other hour on which you can come to see me.
“Yours very sincerely,
“Olive Mason.”
She sent the note by Sally, telling her to wait for an answer. In half an hour Sally returned with it. Miss Mason opened it with fingers a little shaky from anxiety. She read it slowly.
“My dear Aunt Olive.—Thank you for your letter. I will be with you on Friday next at four o’clock. My love to you and Pippa. I hope you both enjoyed your holiday in Devonshire.
“Very sincerely yours,