"I quite agree with you," murmured Fanny, and Charlotte raised an aroused face from her work.
"I daresay," said Emily, "that the Ortons all laugh at us for nasty covetous old maids, and that they think we dislike the boy simply because we are jealous, I don't exactly like to have people imagine that."
"Naturally not," Charlotte was beginning, in muffled tones, when Fanny exclaimed, in consternation,
"Bless us all! Look at the clock! Where can that child be?"
All looked up. The urn had long ceased to sing, the hot cake was cold, the fried ham had turned to white lumps of fat, and the finger of the clock pointed to seven.
They had been so absorbed in discussing Elaine's future that her present whereabouts had entirely been forgotten. Now at last they were thoroughly anxious.
Fanny rang the bell to have the tea re-made and the food heated, Emily hurried out to see if there were any signs of the wanderers on the road across the valley. Charlotte went to Acland, the coachman, to tell him to go and look for them.
"You had better harness Charlie, and take the carriage," she said, "I am afraid something is wrong—Miss Elaine has sprained her ankle, or something; anyway, it is getting so late, they had better drive home. It is very strange; I can't understand it at all."
"No, miss, not more can't I, for Jane's mostly a woonderful poonctual body for her tea," said Acland, chuckling.
"Never known her late before; something must have happened."