"And what business is this of yours?" he inquired, insolently.
"I know her father and I know her. Darling," she said, pulling Margaret towards her, "I told you in London it was always best to tell everything about yourself," and then she turned to Mr. Garratt. "She doesn't go to church; it's very wrong of her, but she would go if she were coaxed. Perhaps she'll go with me some day. And there isn't any mystery about her family. It's a very, very old one, isn't it, dear?" she said, looking at Margaret. "It came over with the Conqueror."
"Well, mine may have scudded about with Noah's for all I know to the contrary. What's that got to do with it?" Mr. Garratt asked.
"He means it for a joke, darling," Lena said to Margaret. "He doesn't mean to be rude—" She stood with her arms round Margaret, looking with soft reproachfulness at Mr. Garrett.
"Look here, I'm off," he said with a sudden inspiration; "good-morning," and in a moment he had disappeared down the direct pathway towards the farm.
XX
Hannah in the porch saw him coming.
"Mr. Garratt," she said, severely, "have you been for a walk? I thought I heard the pony go by when we were in church."