"Mrs. Robson"—the schoolmaster passed his tongue over dry lips—"there's a little matter I should like to talk to you about, if you could spare the time."
"Certainly, Mr. Coast. What is it?"
Mary was at the top of the steps now, fixing the Christmas fairy to the highest spire of the tree.
"I should prefer to speak to you in private, if I might trespass for a few minutes on your valuable time."
Mary shrugged her shoulders with resignation.
"Are you in any hurry?" she asked airily.
Not for worlds would she have confessed that the prospect of an interview alone with Coast scared her, that the possibility of his rudeness was dreadful to her.
"Oh, no. Any time that suits you will do for me, Mrs. Robson."
"Will it do when we've finished the tree?"
"Of course, Mrs. Robson. Naturally it would be impossible to finish the decorations without your kind advice."