“Ah, you had to get leave?” said Ursula, her conscience smiting her.
“Yes; government officials always must. Most people must who work for their bread. I am a post-office clerk.”
“I know, I know,” answered Ursula, hastily. “Of course I know, Cousin Helmont. Please put down your bag; it will be quite safe. I will send one of the laborers to fetch it.”
“I can easily carry it myself,” he said, more courteously; “I always do.” And, although this time he said nothing about expenditure, she felt that he considered the tip.
After that the conversation lagged. Presently the young man said, with much timidity:
“There is one thing I should greatly like, if you would be so very kind. My mother is exceedingly anxious about railway travelling of any sort, and she made me promise to let her know at once of my safe arrival. They couldn’t telegraph at the station. Would there be a possibility, perhaps, of forwarding a message?”
“Oh, certainly,” replied Ursula, demurely. “But—you know—telegrams are expensive.”
Theodore’s pure eyes grew troubled.
“The matter is altogether different,” he said. “Perhaps, if you will allow me to explain—”
Ursula burst out laughing.