“And those two children of hers—are they very troublesome?”
“Indeed, no; they are the best little things you ever saw. I wanted to bring the boy with me to meet you, but Janet would not let me.”
“Um!” grunted Cattledon: “showed a little sense for once. What is that building?”
“That’s the Town Hall. I thought you knew Lefford, Miss Cattledon?”
“One cannot be expected to retain the buildings of a town in one’s head as if they were photographed there,” returned she in a sharp tone of reproof. Which shut me up.
“And, pray, how does that young woman continue to conduct herself?” she asked presently.
“What young woman?” I said, believing she must be irreverently alluding to Janet.
“Lettice Lane.”
Had she mentioned the name of some great Indian Begum I could not have been more surprised. That name brought back to memory all the old trouble connected with Miss Deveen’s emeralds, their loss and their finding: which, take it for all in all, was nothing short of a romance. But why did she question me about Lettice Lane. I asked her why.
“I asked it to be answered, young man,” was Cattledon’s grim retort.