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Updated: June 17, 2025
It was from Miss Abercrombie, that she had known from the envelope, and written from the Rutherford home at Wrotham. "DEAR JOAN," the letter ran: "Your people are home, they have just come back from abroad and had a very tiresome journey over because of the mobilization on the Continent. Janet wrote, or rather your uncle wrote for her, asking me to be here to meet them.
Her sister, Elizabeth, put down her needlework, and watched Tom with sudden solicitude. An instinctive dislike of Lord Wrotham and his companion caused her to avoid looking their way, though she heard every word they were saying, and her interest became centred on the handsome gypsy, whose pallid features and terrible expression filled her with a vague alarm.
"Accidents will happen," he said, sententiously "If a child gets into the way of a motor going at full speed, it is bound to be unfortunate for the child. But Lord Wrotham was a rich man and no doubt he would have paid a handsome sum down in compensation " "Compensation!" And Helmsley suddenly stood up, drawing his frail thin figure erect "Compensation! Money!
Keep your distance, please!" For Tom suddenly threw up his clenched fists with an inarticulate cry of rage, and now leaped towards Wrotham in the attitude of a wild beast springing on its prey. "Hands off! Hands off, I say! Damn you, leave me alone! Brookfield! Here! Some one get a hold of this fellow! He's mad!"
He could give plenty of spiritual advice and assistance, but little else; the old people and the invalids of the parish looked to Aunt Janet for soups and warm clothes and kindly interest. Wrotham boasted a doctor too. As Joan remembered him he had been a gentleman of very rubicund complexion and rough manners.
Both armies kept a considerable body in reserve, and Warwick, besides this resource, had selected from his own retainers a band of picked archers, whom he had skilfully placed in the outskirts of a wood that then stretched from Wrotham Park to the column that now commemorates the battle of Barnet, on the high northern road.
But you don't mean to tell me that while you're pounding along at full speed, you've never upset anything in your way? never knocked down an old man or woman, never run over a dog, or a child?" "Oh, well, if you mean that kind of thing!" murmured Wrotham, puffing placidly at his cigar "Of course! That's quite common! We're always running over something or other, aren't we, Brookie?"
The cordon consisted of idlers and children picked up at Wrotham; and the tramp who feigned to be asleep had been one of them. When they had passed, he had given the signal to his nearest neighbour, and had followed them up. Nichol was soon at the place, and after them; and had followed to Stanfield with Lackington behind.
Then he had had to leave it because old age had called for retirement, and he had sent for Aunt Janet to come and keep house for him and together they had settled down in the old home at Wrotham both unmarried, both very quiet and content to live in the past. Then Joan had descended on them, a riotous, long-legged, long-haired girl of eight, the child of a very much younger, little known brother.
She was a schoolmistress, it appeared, only just lately health had interfered with her duties and it was then that Aunt Janet had persuaded her, after many attempts, to take a real holiday and spend it at Wrotham. "Sheer vice on my part, agreeing," Miss Abercrombie told Joan with a laugh; "but everyone argued with me all at once and I succumbed."
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