"Mrs. Cranmer, come here and sit on my knee. I want to say something."
"Can't you say it as we are?"
"It's private and confidential."
"You must put down your pipe then. I can't talk to you if you puff smoke in my face."
He obediently laid aside the pipe and held out his arms invitingly.
Wyn decorously took a seat, still armed with her work.
"A gardener is sure to come by in a moment," she remarked, primly.
"The entire staff of domestics may march past in procession, for aught I care. Don't be silly," said her husband, pinching her ear.
"Well, now, what did you want to say?" asked she.
"Why, that something has upset dear old Henry. I expect it is to do with Elsa. I know he is very anxious about her. I was down at the quarries this morning, and he rode up to give me the message I gave you—that he would not be in to dinner. I thought he seemed not quite himself, and I asked him what it was. He said he would tell me later. He looked most horribly put out."