“Oh, I like it. When did you come, Miss Bethia? You are not looking very well.”
“I haven’t been well—had a sharp turn of rheumatism. I had some business, and I came yesterday.”
“And how are all the Gourlay people? And you live in our house now. How strange it must seem! And what a shame that your old place is spoiled!”
“I thought so at the time, but it might have been worse.”
And then Violet had a great many questions to ask, and listened with many exclamations of wonder and pleasure to all that she heard; and Miss Bethia, pleased with the interest she displayed, made no pause till Ned called out that young Mr Oswald was driving Davie over the bridge, and that now Violet would have to go.
“Mamma,” said Violet, “I have not told you why I came yet. Mr Oswald sent me, and I cannot tell it all at once. Let me stay till after tea, and Jem can take me home.”
“All right,” said Jem. “I have no objections, if nobody else has none.”
There was a little pleasant confusion after Mr Philip and David came in, two or three speaking at once, and all eager to be heard, and then Mr Philip was introduced to the visitor. There was no mistaking the look she bent upon him. It was searching and critical, admiring, but not altogether approving.
“You have never been out Gourlay way?” said she.
“No, I never have, as yet.”