"What was the matter, Hedges?" inquired his mistress. "I'm sure my brother would not telegraph unless it was something."
"The message didn't say, my lady. It was just a few words, asking her ladyship to go off by the first train, but giving no reason."
"I wonder she went, then," observed Val to his wife, as they looked into the different rooms. But Maude did not wonder: she knew how anxious her mother was to be on good terms with her eldest son, from whom she received occasional supplies. Rather would she quarrel with the whole world than with him.
"I think it a good thing she has gone, Maude," said he. "There certainly would not have been room for her and for us in this house."
"And so do I," answered Maude, looking round her bed-chamber. "If mamma fancies she's going to inflict herself upon us for good she's mistaken. She and I might quarrel, perhaps; for I know she'd try to control me. Val, what are we to do in this small house?"
"The best we can. We have made the bargain, you know, and taken possession now."
"You are laughing. I declare I think you are glad it has turned out what it is!"
"I am not sorry," he avowed. "You'll let me cater for you another time, Maude."
She put up her face to be kissed. "Don't be angry with me. It is our home-coming."
"Angry!" he repeated. "I have never shown anger to you yet, Maude. Never a woman had a more indulgent husband than you shall have in me."