“But, if they knew, would they not send down to fetch us at once?” said Mrs Wentworth feebly.
Major Winchester considered.
“Not within two hours,” he said. “The stable arrangements at my uncle’s are, to say the least, complicated. I think the wagonette that was to fetch you was bringing some ‘parting guest’ to the station to go on by the two o’clock train and then wait for you, so you see—”
“Of course,” cried Imogen. “Mamsey, you must; only—there’s the luggage, and—your groom?”
“He can come up on the wagonette, and see that the luggage comes too. The more important question,” he went on, smiling again, “is your maid. But Smith can look after her: he’s a very decent fellow, and I daresay he knows the station-master’s wife.”
“Oh, Colman will be all right,” said Imogen. “She’s not at all stuck-up, and very good-natured.” Colman had very discreetly retired a few paces. “Mamma, you must see it’s by far the best thing to do, as Mr—” She stopped short.
“Of course, I have not introduced myself; my name is Winchester,” said their new friend. “I call Mr Helmont my uncle, or rather, I should say, Mrs Helmont is my aunt à la mode de Bretagne.”
Mrs Wentworth’s face cleared.
“I must have heard of you,” she said. “You are really very kind, and, perhaps—”
Imogen had run off; in an instant she reappeared.