'Then—to-morrow, whither are we to go?'
'Really, my dear, I don't know. I have a bad head at guessing conundrums. Is it a conundrum, though?' asked Mrs. Trelake, doubtfully. She had not been listening. She was calculating her chance of securing the dragon vases at the sale.
'You knew and loved my mother. I am sure you love her now.'
'Ardently, tenderly,' said Mrs. Trelake, effusively.
'Will you take it ill if I ask a favour of you?'
'Not at all.'
'Would you receive us for a week? I do not ask for more. In a week we shall have had time to settle something as to our future.'
'Oh, Orange! don't say a week; say a month. My house is at your disposal. I really have a fair cook; and now tell me, what does your mother like? For breakfast, now? Is it grilled kidneys? You must put me up to all her little fancies, and I will instruct my cook to meet them. She is a good soul and does what I desire. When will you come? To-morrow? Oh, try to come this evening. Well—if not, at what o'clock? Tell me the time and I will have a dainty meal ready. Orange! I have a pheasant in the larder. I hope you like pheasant.'
'We shall be with you at noon. How good and kind you are, Mrs. Trelake!'
'Not at all. I am delighted.'