She pondered over his note now, knitting her brows. It would be easy enough to act defiantly and go at once; but if this meant that the final flight were near at hand she did not wish to excite anew her stepmother's anger and suspicion. Then, as she hesitated, she heard a heavy step on the stairs, and she crushed the note hurriedly into her pocket.
Mrs. Rainham came into the room without the formality of knocking—a formality she had never observed where Cecilia was concerned. The afternoon post had just come, and she carried some letters in her hand.
“Cecilia, I want you to put on your things and go to Balding's for me,” she said, her voice more civil than it had been for a month. “I'm asked up to Liverpool for a few days; my sister there is giving a big At Home—an awfully big thing, with the Lady Mayoress and all the Best People at it—and she wants me to go up. I suppose she'll want me to sing.”
“That is nice,” said Cecilia, speaking with more truth than Mrs. Rainham guessed. “What will you wear?”
“That's just it,” said her stepmother eagerly. “My new evening dress isn't quite finished—we ran short of trimming. I can't go out, because the Simons are coming in to afternoon tea; so you just hurry and go over to Balding's to match it. I got it there, and they had plenty. Here's a bit.” She held out a fragment of gaudy sequin trimming. “I think you could finish the dress without me getting in the dressmaker again—she's that run after she makes a regular favour of coming.”
“Very well,” said Cecilia—who would, at the moment, have agreed to sew anything or everything that might hasten her stepmother's journey. “When do you go?”
“The day after to-morrow. I'll stay there a few days, I suppose; not worth going so far for only one evening. Mind, Cecilia, you're not to have Bob here while I'm away. When I come back, if I'm satisfied with you, I'll see about asking him again.”
“That is very good of you,” said the girl slowly.
“Well, that's all right—you hurry and get ready; there's always a chance they may have sold out, because it was a bargain line, and if they have you'll have to try other places. I don't know what on earth I'll do if you can't match it.” She turned to go, and then hesitated. “I was thinking you might take Avice with you—but you'll get about quicker alone, and she isn't ready. The tubes and buses are that crowded it's no catch to take a child about with you.” In moments of excitement Mrs. Rainham's English was apt to slip from her. At other times she cultivated it carefully, assisted by a dramatic class, which an enthusiastic maiden lady, with leanings towards the stage, conducted each winter among neighbouring kindred souls.
Cecilia had caught her breath in alarm, but she breathed a sigh of relief as the stout, over-dressed figure went down the narrow stairs, with a final injunction to hurry. There was, indeed, no need to give Cecilia that particular command. She scribbled one word, “Coming,” on Bob's note, thrust it into an envelope and addressed it hastily, and then tapped on the wall between the servants' room and her own.