"She has not come in yet. Why, dear me, it is nearly one o'clock! Go and get off your boots, my darlings, and ask grandmamma when she expects aunty."
Mrs. Liddell did not know when Katherine might return, and, moreover, she was getting uneasy. She did not like to say much about her errand, for she knew her daughter-in-law thought but indifferently of her writings, and with an indescribable "crass" dislike of what she could not do herself, would have been rather pleased than otherwise to know that a manuscript had been rejected.
In looking over one of the drawers in her writing-table Mrs. Liddell had found that Katherine had left the shorter story behind. This rendered her prolonged absence less accountable, for she could have interviewed several publishers of three-volume novels in the time. The poor lady naturally feared that they must have refused even to look at her work, or Katherine would have returned.
When dinner was over, and four o'clock came, Mrs. Liddell's anxiety rose high; she could not bear her daughter-in-law's presence, and retired into her own den.
"Won't you stay and see Colonel Ormonde? He used to be quite friendly with poor Fred in India, and I should like him to see what a nice handsome mamma-in-law I have," said Mrs. Fred, caressingly: she rather liked her mother-in-law, and felt it was as well to be on affectionate terms with her.
"No, my dear; my head is not quite free from pain, and I want to give Katherine something to eat when she comes in; she will be very hungry. Then I can see that the children do not get into any mischief in the garden."
The younger lady then went to pose herself with a dainty piece of fancy-work in the drawing-room, and the elder to sit at her writing-table, pen in hand, but not writing; only thinking round and round the circle of difficulties which hedged her in, and longing for the sight of her daughter's face.
At last it beamed upon her through the open door-window which led out on the stairway to the garden; her approach had been seen by her little nephews, who had admitted her through the back gate.
"You must not come in now, dears; I want to talk to grannie. If you keep away I will tell you a nice story in the evening."
"My dearest child, what has kept you? I have been uneasy; and how dreadfully tired you look!"