Hurrah! I am so relieved. The truants have not gone to Uplands. I met the cook in the village to-day, recognised her, and tackled her to her face. She flushed and wriggled, looked uncomfortable, but not as penitent as I should have liked to have seen.
“Was it necessary to wait until we had actually arrived, before letting us know that you had changed your mind?”
She stood on one foot, and drew circles on the road with the other.
“Didn’t decide myself till just the last minute.”
“You hadn’t taken another place then? I understood from your note—”
“I’m staying on with my mother. I may go to a lady at Guildford.”
Silence. One department of my brain felt an immense relief, the other an immense exasperation.
“Then you were free all the time! Doesn’t it strike you as wrong and dishonourable to show such a want of concern for other people’s convenience?”
She muttered. I caught the sound of a few words—“I’m not the Only One!” and put on my most dignified air.
“However, it is all for the best. You certainly would not have suited us. I hope for your own sake you will learn to keep your word.”