hunted up
Timmy in order to demand why Josephine and her kittens had not been sent
back to Epsom ere now. There had followed a lively scrap, leaving them
both in a bad mood; but at last it was arranged that Godfrey, Betty and
Timmy should motor to Epsom with the cat and her kittens after luncheon.

The morning wore itself slowly away. Only two of the younger people were
entirely happy--Betty, doing her usual work, and Godfrey Radmore. Even he
was more restless than usual, and kept wandering in and out of the
kitchen in a way which Rosamund, who was helping Betty, thought very
tiresome. As for Timmy, his mother could not make him out. He seemed
uncomfortable, and, to her practised eye, appeared to have something on
his conscience.

Three times in one hour Jack came into the drawing-room and asked his
step-mother whether she had not yet had a letter from The Trellis House.
Now Jack Tosswill had always been reserved, absurdly sensitive to any
kind of ridicule. Yet now he scarcely made an effort to conceal his
unease and suspense. Indeed, the third time he had actually exclaimed,
"Janet! Are you concealing anything from me?" And she had answered,
honestly surprised, "I don't know what you mean, Jack. I've had no
communication from Mrs. Crofton of any kind. Are you sure she wrote
me a letter?" And he had answered in a wretched tone: "Quite sure."

And then, about five minutes before luncheon, and luncheon had to be a
very punctual meal at Old Place, for it was the one thing about which its
master was particular, Timmy came in with a letter in his hand, and
sidling up to his mother, observed with rather elaborate unconcern: "A
letter for you, Mum."

She looked at him quite straight. "Has this letter only just been left,
my dear?"

He answered rather hurriedly: "It came a little while ago, but I put it
in my pocket and forgot it."

Janet broke the seal, for the letter was sealed, and then she called out
to her son, who was making for the door: "Don't go away, Timmy. Betty
will ring the lunch bell in a moment."

Unwillingly he turned round and stood watching her while she read the
four pages of closely written handwriting. But, rather to his relief,
she made no remark, and the bell rang just as she put the letter back in
its envelope. Then she slipped it in her pocket, for Janet Tosswill was
one of the very few women in England who still had a pocket in her dress.

Giving him what he felt to be a condemnatory look, but