“Granny could tell the date to a year,” he thought to himself. All the same, he slipped the shoe back to its hiding place pretty sharply when he heard the door handle turn and his grandmother enter the room.
He would have been rather astonished had he overheard the directions she had just been giving to her trusty Jones.
“I don’t wish Miss Ella to know of Sir Philip’s return,” she said. “Take her her breakfast when she wakes—I told her to ring for it—and tell her that the carriage will be round as soon as she is dressed. I am going to drive back to Coombesthorpe with her, myself.”
Then the old lady rejoined her grandson in the study and kept him immersed in her instructions to Mr Brander, till his dog-cart was announced.
“You will probably stay to luncheon with him,” she said. “You may as well, for you would not find me at home. I am going to lunch at Coombesthorpe.”
“Then tell them,” Sir Philip began,—“oh no, by the by, you will not see the girls?”
“Perhaps I shall—I may wait till they return.”
“Tell them I shall be over to-morrow, then. They were looking very well last night, didn’t you think so? Ermine especially, Madelene looked rather solemn—does that child worry her much, do you think, Granny?”
“If she does, it is Maddie’s own fault,” Lady Cheynes replied sharply. “At least hers to some extent, and perhaps partly her father’s. I find Ella as reasonable as one could wish. I’m sure when she is alone with me—” but here she suddenly checked herself.
“Is she ever alone with you? Do you have her here? Upon my word, Granny, it’s most self-sacrificing of you. But—you’re not going to have her here any more, I hope, not now I’ve come back?”