Next day brought Mrs. Dorriman a letter from her brother, the contents of which puzzled her and bewildered her very nearly as much as the famous letter had done more than two years and a half ago, when we first made her acquaintance.
She was to come to Renton with Margaret, and she was also to bring Christie with her. Jean of course would be welcome, but he wished to see Christie particularly.
Mr. Stevens not having arrived, Mrs. Dorriman took her perplexities to Margaret.
"Why he should want to see Christie is so very remarkable," said she, in something of the old puzzled and plaintive tone.
"Did he know her in old days?"
"Of course he must have seen her, as a young man he must have known her, because she lived on the place, and it was our way to know everybody; but all these years she has been here and he has never taken any notice of her. I believe she would hardly know him by sight now."
"Perhaps she is connected with some memory of his youth."
"Yes! of course that may be it."
Mrs. Dorriman went herself to tell Christie about it; wishing to prepare the old woman, doubtful as to her consenting to go on a railway for the first time in all her life.
But when she reached Christie's cottage she found her in her Sunday's clothes—her best mutch[1] on, and all the small possessions she wished to take with her ready packed.