Lois did not want to say. Her grandmother, she thought, could not understand her; and if she could understand, she thought she would be perhaps hurt. She turned the conversation. Then came the clearing away the remains of dinner; washing the dishes; baking the rest of the tea-cakes; cleansing and putting away the baker; preparing flour for next day's bread-making; making her own bed and putting her room in order; doing work in the dairy which Madge was not at home to take care of; brushing up the kitchen, putting on the kettle, setting the table for tea. Altogether Lois had a busy two or three hours, before she could put on her afternoon dress and come and sit down by her grandmother.
"It is a change!" she said, smiling. "Such a different life from what I have been living. You can't think, grandma, what a contrast between this afternoon and last Friday."
"What was then?"
"I was sitting in Mrs. Wishart's drawing-room, doing nothing but play work, and a gentleman talking to me."
"Why was he talking to you? Warn't Mrs. Wishart there?"
"No; she was out."
"What did he talk to you for?"
"I was the only one there was," said Lois. But looking back, she could not avoid the thought that Mr. Dillwyn's long stay and conversation had not been solely a taking up with what he could get.
"He could have gone away," said Mrs. Armadale, echoing her thought.
"I do not think he wanted to go away. I think he liked to talk to me."
It was very odd too, she thought.