"For goodness' sake, don't cry. I believe you—every word. But did you travel from Cheshire in that rig-out?"
"No, oh, no! I wore a mackintosh, and a lady's hat. They're hanging in the hall. I took them off while crossing the moor."
"A mackintosh!"
"Yes. Don't be horrid! I turned up my trousers, of course."
"I'm not being horrid. I want to help you. You walked—how many miles?"
"Fourteen."
"And breakfasted at York?"
"Yes. You see, Betty would have brought me some lunch. Then you came."
"The bedroom was prepared for your use, then?"
"Yes. It's my room, really. Dad likes to sleep with his head to the west, and that is where the door is in that room."