“Perhaps we should pay half the house rent,” said Mrs Derwent, “and, of course, a larger proportion of the housekeeping. All that, I could guarantee out of capital for a time—the first year or so—till we saw how we got on. Miss Halliday is such an unsuspicious creature that I should be doubly anxious to be fair to her.”
“Perhaps it would be best to consult Mr Mapleson,” said Blanche.
“Yes, I think it would be quite necessary,” her mother agreed. “I should like to have a talk with Miss Halliday before doing so, however, so that we might know our ground a little; and then, again, I can’t say anything definite till I hear more from Mr Bracy.”
She got up from her seat as she spoke, and crossed the room to the window, where she stood looking out.
It was a perfectly lovely, early summer morning. The grounds at Pinnerton Lodge were now beginning to reward the care that had been bestowed on them when the Derwents first took the house. The view from the window across the neat lawn, its borders already gay with flowers, was charming.
No wonder that poor Mrs Derwent sighed a little.
“I think almost the worst part of this sort of trouble,” she said, “is waiting to see what one should do; though in some cases, no doubt, this goes on for months.”
At that moment the click of the gate was heard.
“I don’t think we are going to be kept very long waiting,” said Blanche cheerfully—she too had left her seat, and was standing beside her mother—“that’s the Bracys’ page coming up the path; he must be bringing a note.”
Her conjecture was correct. Two minutes later the note was in Mrs Derwent’s hand.