“Certainly,” was Lady Bretton’s reply, as she took it from me. “It shall be sent off at once.”
“It is to father,” I explained. “There is no hurry, I know. He is at Liverpool.”
“At Liverpool?” she repeated, in a tone of surprise.
“Yes,” I said, “he is there on this business that I can’t tell you about, and the younger Mr Payne is to join him there to-night.”
I was glad to be able to tell her this, and I think it thoroughly satisfied her. The kindly caressing look and tone returned to her eyes and voice.
“You’re looking tired, dear,” she said, almost tenderly, “and, dear me, yes!—you leave me the day after to-morrow. I wish this annoying business had not cropped up just at the end of your visit—you were so blooming last week, before you set off to that Granville Square.”
“I am a little tired,” I said, “but I shall be all right again now. The business is out of my hands.”
“You quaint little person,” said Lady Bretton. “You and business! It seems too absurd! Now go and lie down till luncheon-time; you know I never coddle, but there are exceptions to all rules.”
I was not sorry to do as she told me; I rather suspect I fell asleep. I know that I felt quite myself again by the afternoon, and when I said good-bye to my dear hostess on Saturday, she expressed her satisfaction at seeing me looking so well.
“So they will trust you to me again, and that before very long, I hope,” were her last words.