The Master of Greylands: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

In burst Mrs. Bent, a big cooking apron tied on over her gown. She looked slightly surprised at seeing the stranger-seated there; but said nothing. Unlocking the corner cupboard, and throwing wide its doors, she began searching for something on the shelves.

"Here you are, Mrs. Bent! Busy as usual."

The sudden salutation came from a gentleman who had entered the house hastily. A tall, well-made, handsome, young fellow, with a ready tongue, and a frank expression in his dark brown eyes. He stood just inside the door, and did not observe the stranger.

"Is it you, Mr. Harry?" she said, glancing round.

"It's nobody else," he answered. "What an array of jam pots! Do you leave the key in the door? A few of those might be walked off and never be missed."

"I should like to see anybody attempt it," cried Mrs. Bent, wrathfully. "You are always joking, Mr. Harry."

He laughed cordially. "John," he said, turning to the landlord, "did the coach bring a parcel for me?"

"No, sir. Were you expecting one, Mr. Harry?"

Mrs. Bent turned completely round from her cupboard. "It's not a trick you are thinking to play us, is it, sir? I have not forgotten that other parcel you had left here once."

"Other parcel? Oh, that was ever so many years ago. I am expecting this from London, John, if you will take it in. It will come to-morrow, I suppose. Mrs. Bent thinks I am a boy still."