Tony's silence throughout the last few weeks had
somewhat disturbed her. She had not received a single line from him since
the day he had accompanied her to Victoria station and seen her safely on
board the train for Silverquay, and now her brows drew together rather
anxiously as she perused this unexpected message.
The telegram had been handed in at the local post office at Lorne, so it
was obvious that Tony was at home, and the only reason she could surmise
for his sudden request was that he had had a rather bigger quarrel than
usual with his uncle.
She scribbled an affirmative reply on the prepaid form which had
accompanied the wire and dispatched it by the telegraph boy, who was
waiting placidly in the sunshine--and looked as though he were prepared to
wait all day if necessary. Then, when she had slit the last fat pod in her
basket and shelled its contents, she picked up the bowl of shiny green peas
and carried it into the kitchen where Maria was busy making bread.
"Can we do with a visitor, Maria?" she asked, flapping the flimsy pink
telegram gaily in front of her. "Here's Mr. Tony Brabazon wiring to know if
we can put him up."
"Master Tony?" Maria relapsed into the familiar appellation of the days
when she had been not infrequently moved to cuff the said Master Tony's
ears with gusto, on occasions when he took nursery tea at Lovell Court and
failed to comport himself, in Maria's eyes, "as a little gentleman should.
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