"Mother," said Margaret, turning round, "some one has come to the house by the church. I passed it this morning and saw the luggage going in. Mr. Carringford said that Sir George was going to lend it from a Saturday to Monday to some friends of father's. Perhaps they have come."
"More of his fine feathers," said Hannah, contemptuously. "It's a pity he was left plucked so long."
"Hannah, be quiet," Mrs. Vincent said, sternly. "Go to your work, and don't come to me again till you have learned respect for those who are better than yourself." It was almost a command, but Mrs. Vincent had been roused into her old self again—the self of bygone years.
Luckily Towsey appeared on the scene.
"Sandy wants to know whether he's to be here to-morrow to take Mr. Garratt's horse. You said something about his not coming."
Hannah hurried out to speak to the old cowman who usually waited for Mr. Garratt's mare on Sunday morning before going to church.
"Mr. Garratt won't be over early to-morrow," she said. "He's driving a trap from Guildford, and it'll take him all he knows to get here by dinner-time. If you come up after church, Sandy, it'll do." This was an arrangement Mr. Garratt had made, rather to Hannah's surprise, on his last visit. It would be better than the train, he had explained; but it was a long way, and it would be impossible for him to arrive before the middle of the day.