“Oh, thank you, dearest mother!” exclaimed her daughter, kissing her. “I should then say that if——”
Her speech was here interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Good gracious! I hope nobody is calling,” said Mrs. Hartley.
“Don't mind us,” cried the young ladies.
“You had better not let anybody in, mother,” whispered Rose.
As Mrs. Hartley went out she closed the parlour door after her.
But some conversation could be heard going on in the passage. Familiar tones reached Rose's ears, and she said to the young ladies:
“I do believe it is Harry Netterville himself!”
“How strange if it should be!” cried Mildred.
Next moment Mrs. Hartley returned, her countenance wearing a very singular expression.