Meanwhile, Jack had reached the Lodge and made his request to Somers, the gamekeeper.
"I'm main sorry, sir, but the missus thought as you would want her at eleven—as usual, so she started off early to get her marketing done first. I'll be sure and tell her to take her things up for the night as soon as she gets home."
"Ten o'clock! No Mrs. Somers yet!"
Mrs. Cheriton picked up her little daughter and carried her upstairs.
"We'll make the beds, Mollie, you and I," she said, tossing the little maid into the middle of the shaken-up feather bed.
This was fine fun, and Mollie begged for a repetition of it.
"Hark! That must be Mrs. Somers," as a footstep sounded on the gravel path.
"That's right, Mrs. Somers, I am glad you have come," called Millicent, but as she heard no reply, she thought she had been mistaken, and finished making the bed, then tying a sun-bonnet over Mollie's golden curls, took her downstairs, intending to take her into the garden to play.
What was it that came over Millicent as she reached the hall? Again that strange uneasiness, and a feeling that some third person was near her. She grasped Mollie's hand more firmly, with an impatient exclamation to herself, for what she thought was silly nervousness, and walked into the dining-room.
There, in the large armchair, lately occupied by her husband, sat a tall, gentlemanly looking man.