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"That was Thyrza Smart, sir the daughter of Smart, the farmer." "Excellent! Mrs. Melrose shall make friends with her." "And of course, sir, both Pengarth and Keswick are within a drive." "Oh, that's no good," said Melrose, easily. "We shall have no carriage." The agent stared. "No carriage? I am afraid in that case you will find it very difficult getting about.
She knew nothing of Mr. Wingrave, millionaire. "Advertisements, a good many of them," he said. "I must send for Aynesworth some day to go through them all." "What fun!" she exclaimed. "Do send for him! He thinks that I am staying with Miss Pengarth, and I haven't written once since I got here!" To Wingrave, it seemed that a chill had somehow stolen into the hot summer morning.
And they are fitting up a telephone between Threlfall and some new rooms that he has taken for estate business in Pengarth." "A telephone at Threlfall!" murmured Andover. "And Undershaw tells me that Melrose has taken the most extraordinary fancy for the young man. Everything is done for him. He may have anything he likes. And, rumour says an enormous salary!"
The muffled roar of the Atlantic was in his ears, a strange everlasting background to all the slighter summer sounds, the murmuring of insects, the calling of birds, the melodious swish of the whirling knives in the distant hayfield. Wingrave was alone with his thoughts, and he hated them! Even Mr. Pengarth was welcome, Mr.
"Theer's noa house to be had nearer than Pengarth yo' know that yoursen an' how are we to be waakin' fower mile to our work i' t' mornin', an' fower mile back i' t' evening? Why, we havena got t' strength! It isna exactly a health resort yo' ken Mainstairs!"
That man Undershaw says you must have some society invite some people." Faversham laughed. "I don't know a soul, either at Keswick or Pengarth." "There have been some people inquiring after you." "Oh, young Tatham? Yes, I knew him at Oxford." "And the women who are they?" Faversham explained. "Miss Penfold seems to have recognized me from Undershaw's account.
Pengarth very warm from his ride, carrying his hat and a small black bag in his hand. As he drew nearer, he became hotter and was obliged to rest his bag upon the path and mop his forehead. He was more afraid of his client than of anything else in the world. "Good afternoon, Sir Wingrave," he said. "I trust that you are feeling better today." Wingrave eyed him coldly.
Pengarth, that he won't be angry to hear that we have been living at the house all this time?" "Certain," Mr. Pengarth declared firmly. "He left everything entirely in my hands. He did not wish me to let it, but he did not care about its being altogether uninhabited. The arrangement I was able to make with your guardian was a most satisfactory one."
I shall never return to England you will never see me again. I have given life here a fair trial, and found it a failure. I am going to make a new experiment and it is going to be in an unexplored country. You could not reach me there through the post. You, I think, would scarcely care to follow me. Let it go at that." Mr. Pengarth took up his bag with a sigh.
The statement when finished and written out in Netta's childish hand was sent by messenger, late in the evening, within a covering letter to Faversham, written by Tatham. Tatham afterward devoted himself till nearly midnight to composing a letter to Lydia. He had unaccountably missed her that afternoon, for when he arrived at the cottage from Pengarth she was out, and neither Mrs.
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