“I wonder how soon your man can return,” she said at last.
“Well, ma’am, it depends on whether he would have only to go to Goresby or further. If Mr. Stondon was at the Manor he might—— But here is the gentleman himself,” she added, as Basil came galloping along the road and up to the farm, where, flinging his bridle to one of the labourers, he threw himself from his horse and came hurriedly into the house.
“What is the matter with Harry?” were the first words he spoke.
“He has met with an accident,” answered Phemie, while Mrs. Urkirs discreetly withdrew.
“How—when—where?” he persisted.
“Yesterday; somehow in the stable-yard.”
He muttered an oath, and took a turn up and down the farm kitchen before he broke out—
“Weren’t there enough of you about the house to have kept him out of harm’s way. Sometimes I cannot think what women were sent into the world for at all.”
She did not answer him. She knew what he did not know, and it kept her tongue quiet, otherwise Phemie was not the one to have endured such a speech quietly.
Her silence had its effect, however, for he said next moment—