Tea had been brought in, and she was busy with the arrangement of a branch of wild cherry in a corner of the room where its pearl and silver blossoms shone out against a background of dull purple, when the door was hastily opened, and a curly-haired youth stood on the threshold who smiled at sight of her.
"You are here, mother! That's jolly! I thought I might find you gone."
"I put off London till next week. Mind my hat, you wretch."
For the young fellow had put his arms round her, kissing her heartily. She disengaged herself and her hat, affecting to scold; but her eyes betrayed her. She put up her hand and smoothed back the thick and tumbling hair from his forehead.
"What a ruffian you look! Where have you been all this time?"
"I stopped in Keswick to do various things—and then—I say, shan't we have some tea? I've got lots to tell you. Well, in the first place, mother, I'd better warn you, you may have some visitors directly!"
Lady Tatham opened her eyes, struck by the elation of the tone.
"Strangers?"
"Well, nearly—but I think you've seen them. You know that lady and her daughters who came to White Cottage about two years ago?"
"A Mrs. Penfold?"