"Did you say this was the Alice Wigram I knew?"
"Her father had one of your livings," repeated Doris. "He died last year."
"I know. I quarrelled with him. I cannot conceive why Alice Wigram should do me a good turn!" Lady Dunstable threw back her head, her challenging look fixed upon her visitor. Doris was certain she had it in her mind to add—"or you either!"—but refrained.
"Lord Dunstable was always a friend to her father," said Doris, with the same slight emphasis on the "Lord" as before. "And she felt for the estate—the poor people—the tenants."
Rachel Dunstable shook her head impatiently.
"I daresay. But I got into a scrape with the Wigrams. I expect that you would think, Mrs. Meadows—perhaps most people would think, as of course her father did—that I once treated Miss Wigram unkindly!"
"Oh, what does it matter?" cried Doris, hastily,—"what does it matter? She wants to help—she's sorry for you. You should see that woman! It would be too awful if your son was tied to her for life!"
She sat up straight, all her soul in her eyes and in her pleasant face.
There was a pause. Then Lady Dunstable, whose expression had changed, came a little nearer to her.
"And you—I wonder why you took all this trouble?"