nny
Marrable all the story knows--that this sudden translation of her old
rival in the affections of Dave Wardle, from the Towers to her own home,
had been prompted by the sudden departure of her young ladyship for
London. The fact that the whole thing had come about at the bidding of
"Gwen o' the Towers" was absolute, final, decisive as to its entire
rectitude and expediency. But she could see that this strange son who
had not seen his mother for so long had identified her in the first
plausible octogenarian whom he chanced upon as soon as he was sure he
was getting close to the object of his search, and that he was not known
to her ladyship at all, while his proximity was probably unsuspected by
"old Mrs. Picture" herself. Besides, her faith in her daughter's
judgment was all-sufficient. She was quite satisfied about what she
would find on her return home. Nevertheless, this man was of unsound
mind. But he might be harmless. They often were, in spite of a
terrifying manner.

His manner, however, had ceased to be terrifying by the time a short
interchange of explanations and inquiries had made Granny Marrable
cognisant of the facts. She was not the least alarmed that she should
have that curious rolling gait alongside of her. She was uneasy, for all
that, as to how a sudden visit of this man to Strides Cottage would
work, and cast about in her mind how she should best dissuade him from
making his presence known to his mother before she herself had had an
opportunity of sounding a note of preparation. She had not intended to
go home for a day or two, but she could get her son-in-law to drive her
over, and return the same day. His insanity, or what she had taken for
insanity, had given her such a shock that she was anxious to spare her
daughter a like experience.

"I think, sir," she began diffidently, "that if I might make so bold as
to say so...."

"Cut along, missis! If you was to make so bold as to say what?"

"It did come across my mind that your good mother--not being hearty like
myself, but a bit frail and delicate--might easy feel your coming as an
upset. Now a word beforehand...."

"What sort of a word?" said he, taking her meaning at once. "What'll you
say? No palavering won't make it any better. She'll do best to see me
first, and square me up after. What'll you make of the job?"

Now the fact was that the offer to prepare the way for his proposed
visit which she had been on the point of making had been