"I am not come to see Emmie to-night; it is you I want, Miss Queenie. You might have knocked me down with a feather when he gave me the message. But I suppose he is in his right mind?" continued Caleb, his blue eyes becoming very round and wide, and his rosy face a trifle paler than usual.
"A message from whom?" enquired Queenie, with some degree of curiosity. She was pleased to see her old friend; any break in the monotony of her day was welcome.
"Ay, you'll never guess. Why, my dear young lady, when he told me to come and fetch you I was that flabbergasted—if you know the meaning of such an outlandish word—that I could not tell whether I was standing on my head or my heels. 'I want you to fetch me Frank Marriott's daughter,' he says, in a queer off-hand way, and he shut his eyes and laid quite quiet."
"Do you mean Mr. Calcott has sent for me?" gasped Queenie for the moment. She looked quite frightened.
"Ay, sure enough, though I never thought you would have guessed it so soon," returned Caleb admiringly; "but women's wits beat men's hollow. Well, I couldn't believe my ears, and no wonder; so I waited for him to open his eyes, and then I ventured to ask him to be so good as to repeat his speech, fearing I hadn't rightly understood him."
"'You have understood me very well, Runciman,' he said in a quiet meaning sort of way, not quite pleased at my hesitation, you may be sure. It is 'do this, or go there, and be sharp about it,' with Mr. Calcott, always. 'Please lose no time over your errand, but bring Frank Marriott's daughter back with you; I want to see if can get to sleep to-night.' That's all, on my word and honor, Miss Queenie."
"It is very strange, but I suppose I must go; perhaps he has repented his unkindness, and wants to tell me so. Wait a minute, Caleb, while I tell Miss Titheridge. Emmie is asleep, and so I shall not mind leaving for half-an-hour."
"It is a wet night, I warn you; it is all of a piece with his usual selfishness sending for you on a night like this," fretted Caleb, who was much perplexed and exercised in his mind by the whole proceeding; but Queenie met this additional trial with her usual cheerfulness, and struggled along bravely under her old umbrella.
This time they were not kept waiting. Gurnel eyed them quite as morosely, but he ushered Caleb at once into a comfortable-looking dining-room with a blazing fire, and wine and biscuits on the table; while he begged Queenie civilly to follow him, which she did, naïvely admiring the carved balustrades and soft rich carpets as she did so.
"My master is up, but he cannot leave his room," explained the servant, as he ushered Queenie into a large handsomely-furnished bedroom, where Mr. Calcott lay on a couch beside the fire, in his Indian dressing-gown, with an eider-down quilt over him. A respectable looking woman sat with needle-work at a little round table beside him. At Queenie's entrance she curtsied and withdrew.