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Updated: May 21, 2025
"No," she answered, "I am merely trying to think what it can be that has been worrying me all the morning. It has clean gone out of my head." She remembered it a little later with a glad sigh. St. Leonard himself, Ethelbertha thinks charming. We are to go again on Sunday for her to see the children. Three or four people we met I fancy we shall be able to fit in with.
The moment the girl opened the door, Ethelbertha burst out with: "Oh! can you swim, Amenda?" "No, mum," answered Amenda, with entire absence of curiosity as to why such a question had been addressed to her, "I never knew but one girl as could, and she got drowned."
He does seem to know a tremendous lot. He is possessed of more information than any man I ever came across. Occasionally, it is correct information; but, speaking broadly, it is remarkable for its marvellous unreliability. Where he gets it from is a secret that nobody has ever yet been able to fathom. Ethelbertha was very young when we started housekeeping. She arrived home in tears.
Ethelbertha said: "If you want to wash yourselves when you have done you might go into the back kitchen, if you don't mind; the girls have just finished the bedrooms." She told me that if she met Kate they would probably go for a sail; but that in any case she would be back to lunch. I would have given a sovereign to be going with her.
I believe the result would have been the same if we had told her we were going to live in a balloon. I do not know how it was, I am sure. Amenda was always most respectful in her manner. But she had a knack of making Ethelbertha and myself feel that we were a couple of children, playing at being grown up and married, and that she was humouring us.
"I can't tell you what it is," I said; "I've felt it coming on for weeks." "It's that whisky," said Ethelbertha. "You never touch it except when we go to the Harris's. You know you can't stand it; you have not a strong head." "It isn't the whisky," I replied; "it's deeper than that. I fancy it's more mental than bodily."
Ethelbertha, who appeared to be less high spirited than when we first boarded, wanted to know why we couldn't sail when the wind was off the land. "If it was not blowing off the land," said Ethelbertha, "it would be blowing off the sea, and that would send us back into the shore again. It seems to me this is just the very wind we want."
At half-past ten, we went down and got our own supper, and had it in the kitchen. At a quarter-past eleven, Amenda returned. She walked into the kitchen without a word, hung my hat up behind the door, and commenced clearing away the supper things. "Ethelbertha rose, calm but severe. "'Where have you been, Amenda? she inquired.
People have said so. We parted with only a pressure of the hand, and I hope he won't get into trouble, but I see The Berkshire Courier is going to be deprived of its prey. Dick has just come in. He promises to talk when he has finished eating." Dick's letter, for which Ethelbertha seemed to be strangely impatient, reached us on Wednesday morning.
We agreed that between us we had accomplished something rather clever. "I must get back as soon as I can," I said. "I don't want young Bute getting wrong ideas into his head." "Who is young Bute?" she asked. "The architect," I explained. "I thought he was an old man," said Ethelbertha. "Old Spreight is old enough," I said.
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