"How are you, Mrs. Gum?"
She had not heard him enter, and started at the salutation. Lord Hartledon laughed.
"Don't take me for a housebreaker. Your front-door was open, and I came in without knocking. Is your husband at home?"
What with shaking and curtseying, Mrs. Gum could scarcely answer. It was surprising how a little shock of this sort, or indeed of any sort, would upset her. Gum was away on some business or other, she replied—which caused their tea-hour to be delayed—but she expected him in every moment. Would his lordship please to wait in the best parlour, she asked, taking the candle to marshal him into the state sitting-room.
No; his lordship would not go into the best parlour; he would wait two or three minutes where he was, provided she did not disturb herself, and went on with her tea.
Mrs. Gum dusted a large old-fashioned oak chair with her apron; but he perched himself on one of its elbows.
"And now go on with your tea, Mrs. Gum, and I'll look on with all the envy of a thirsty man."
Mrs. Gum glanced up tremblingly. Might she dare offer his lordship a cup? She wouldn't make so bold but tea was refreshing to a parched throat.
"And mine's always parched," he returned. "I'll drink some with you, and thank you for it. It won't be the first time, will it?"
"Always parched!" remarked Mrs. Gum. "Maybe you've a touch of fever, my lord. Many folk get it at the close of summer."