Herbert had a sudden idea. It took away from his fear a little and made him angry.
“Perhaps she has gone round to church. If so, I will give her a piece of my mind when she comes back. It’s outrageous! It’s shameful.”
There was the sound of a bell ringing through the hall, and the mother and son listened intently.
“Perhaps she has come back,” said Herbert. “Perhaps she went to fetch some flowers.” This idea seemed to soften him. His voice broke a little when he said: “Poor girl! I didn’t mean to make such a fuss about them.” “It isn’t Clare,” said Mrs. Heywood, shaking her head. “It’s a visitor. I hear Mr. Atkinson Brown’s voice.”
Mr. Atkinson Brown’s voice could be heard quite plainly in the hall:
“Well, Mollie, is your mistress quite well?” Herbert grasped his mother’s arm and whispered to her excitedly:
“Mother, we must hide it from them.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Heywood. “If the Atkinson Browns suspect anything it will be all over the neighborhood.”
Herbert had a look of anguish in his eyes. “Good Heavens, yes. My reputation will be ruined.”
Once again they heard Mr. Atkinson Brown’s voice in the hall.