page."

"But people will write, or call. They are sure to speak of it."

"That's your chance. Intercept 'em. You always read the Mater's
letters to her, don't you? Keep the servants' mouths shut. And I want
you to write for me to all those people and cry off; pressing
business--any excuse you like."

"But you, Charley?"

"I'm off to London, to-night; must see what can be done for the old
dad, you know."

"How shall we explain to Mother? She has been looking forward to your
spending your last night at home."

"Roddy will come up by and by with an urgent telephone message. The
Mater is so used to that sort of thing that she won't smell a rat."

"How you think of everything, Charley! But I'm afraid Mother will
notice something in our manner at dinner."

"Not if we're careful. You take your cue from me. Come along!"

No one would have guessed at that dinner table that anything was
amiss. Smith seemed to be in the highest spirits, talking incessantly,
describing his sudden descent on Firtop Farm and his interview with
the farmer so racily that his mother laughed gently, and even Kate,
for all her anxiety, smiled. In the middle of the meal the belated