“I’ve done my share,” she said. “To-day I am going to be a visitor pure and simple, and drive down when everything is ready for my reception.”
Mollie shrugged her shoulders resignedly.
“Well, somebody has got to do it, and, thank goodness, I’m not poor-spirited enough to leave a friend in the lurch at the last moment! I shan’t be satisfied until I see the last chair in order; but I don’t see any reason why I should walk. There is a pony-carriage in the stables, and if anyone had any nice feeling they would drive me there and back!”
Jack laughed, and limped across the terrace.
“Anyone, singular; they, plural! Your grammar is deficient, Miss Mollie; but I suppose your modesty forbade you to be more explicit. I have lots of good-feeling, and nothing to do, so I shall be charmed to escort you, if you will give the order. It would take me too long to get down to the stables.”
It was evident that Jack’s offer was pleasing to Mollie, for she thanked him with a smile as bright as her words, and a quarter of an hour later on they were driving together across the park behind the sleek little pony, Mollie chatting gaily as usual, Jack listening with an air half amused, half bored. Despite his accident, he was looking strong and well, his skin bronzed by the outdoor life of the last few weeks; but the old haughty, intolerant expression, which had seemed his chief characteristic at first meeting, was still noticeable in curving lip and nostril. Not an easy man to convince against his will, nor one to be easily affected by the presence of a pretty girl.
“How cross Uncle Bernard was when I told him about the mysterious hamper! One would think he grudged poor Mrs Thornton having anything nice!” said Mollie severely. “He nearly snapped my head off when I asked if he had sent it. I should not have thought much of that, if he had not denied it in so many words, for he might have been trying to put me off; but after what he said there can be no more doubt on the subject. I wonder who could have sent it? Mrs Thornton says she will never rest till she finds out.”
Jack flicked the pony impatiently.
“Why can’t she be content to take it quietly, and not worry any more? That’s the worst of women—they must make a fuss! If the man who sent it wanted to be thanked, he would have put in a card. If he didn’t, it shows that he prefers to be anonymous, and it’s bad taste to go ferreting round trying to find out what she is not intended to know. I should tell her so straight, if I were you.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because, being a woman, you would be consumed with curiosity, as I am. Now, I wonder why you said the ‘man’?” queried Mollie, tilting her head on one side, and staring at him with mischievous eyes. “What makes you think it was a man? Couldn’t it as easily have been a woman?”