‘Oh, by-the-bye,’ exclaimed Laura, when she and her husband had talked about many things, ‘I quite forgot to tell you about your tenant at Beechampton. He is coming to see you at nine o’clock this morning. It is a rather important matter he wants to see you about, he says. He has been extremely anxious for your return.’
‘My tenant at Beechampton, dear?’ said John Treverton, with a puzzled air. ‘Who can that be? I have no property at Beechampton except ground rents, and Sampson collects those. I have nothing to do with the tenants.’
‘Yes, but this is something about drainage, and your tenant wants to see you. He said you were the ground landlord of some houses which he holds.’
John Treverton shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
‘Rather a bore,’ he said, ‘But if he is here at nine o’clock I don’t mind seeing him—I shan’t wait for him. I’ve ordered my horse at nine sharp. And I’ve ordered the pony carriage for you and Celia to drive to the meet. It’s a fine morning, and the fresh air will do you good.’
‘Then I’d better send a message to Celia,’ said Laura. ‘She is given to late hours in wintry weather.’
She rang the bell and told Trimmer to send one of the maids to Miss Clare to say that she was to be ready for a drive at nine o’clock; and then John and his wife dawdled over their talk and breakfast till half-past eight, by which time the January sun was bright enough to invite them into the garden.
‘Run and put on your sealskin, Laura, and come for a turn in the grounds,’ said Mr. Treverton.
The obedient wife departed, and came back in five minutes, in a brown cloth dress, with jacket, hat, and muff of darkest sealskin.
‘What a delightful study in brown!’ said John.