“I can give you the address, but he is away in Scotland, and not expected back for another fortnight.” Aunt Anne stood dumbfounded for a moment, then slowly she looked up at the servant, with a little smile that had its effect.
“It is very unfortunate,” she said; “my business with him is most pressing. Have you good accounts of Sir William?”
“Sir William is back, ma’am. He returned last week, but he is confined to his room with another attack.”
“Does he keep his bed?”
“Well, he is sitting by the fire just now, ma’am, writing some letters.” In a moment Aunt Anne had whisked into the house; she felt quite exhilarated.
“Be good enough to take my name to him, and ask if he is sufficiently well to see his cousin, Mrs.—Mrs. Baines”—she hesitated over the last word; “say that I am extremely solicitous to have a few minutes’ conversation with him.”
“I am afraid he won’t be able to see you——” the servant began.
“Have the goodness to take up my name.”
“I am afraid——” the servant began again.
“And say I wish to see him on a matter of great importance,” she went on imperiously, not heeding the interruption. She walked towards the dining-room door, as if she had a right to the entire house, but suddenly turned round.