“Joe knows Miss Kate must come first,” responded Sarah. “And as for Father, I don’t doubt he’ll cut up stiff, and make a great grievance out of it, but you don’t need to worry about him, sir! He don’t mean all he says: he’s just naturally full of crotchets! I’ll write a letter to Joe, explaining how it is.”

“Thank you!” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m very much obliged to you! Kate, my uncle wishes us both to dine with him, in his own room: may I tell him that we’ll do so?”

“Yes, indeed, you may!” Kate answered. I—I was dreading having to sit down to dinner in that huge, sombre room, trying to be civil to Dr Delabole! It is so much cosier in Sir Timothy’s room!”

“Dr Delabole,” he said, “will be eating his dinner in the breakfast-parlour! But you are very right: the dining-room was never used, in my aunt’s day, except for large parties. If we find ourselves obliged to take up our quarters here, I shall ask my uncle if we may revert to the old custom of dining in the Red saloon when we are alone.”

“In the meantime, Mr Philip,” interpolated Sarah, edging him towards the door, “I’ll thank you to go away! If Sir Timothy wishes Miss Kate to dine with him, she must change her dress! And if you’ll pardon me for venturing to give you the word with no bark on it, I’ll prefer your room to your company, sir!”

He laughed, but said: “Must she change her dress? She looks very becoming to me!”

“Well, if you think she looks very becoming, with her hair in a tangle, and her dress all creased and rumpled, you must be nutty on her!” retorted Sarah acidly. “She looks like a hoyden, and let her go down to your uncle like that I will not—not if you was to ask me on your bended knees! Get along with you, do, Mr Philip!”

She then thrust him out of the room, firmly shutting the door on him, and uttered, in accents of loathing: “Men!” However, she added grudgingly, as she passed Kate’s wardrobe under rapid review: “Not but what it looks to me as though Sir Timothy knows a point more than the devil, as the saying goes. That’s a very shrewd notion of his, Miss Kate! Once it gets to be known that it was him gave you to Mr Philip, in Church—and it will get to be known, make no mistake about that!—you’ll have everybody that is anybody coming to pay you morning visits. And as long as you don’t get to thinking yourself first in consequence, and setting people’s bristles up by condescending to them, which Mr Pennymore has told me your aunt was used to do, you needn’t fear they won’t like you. So just you sit down there, Miss Kate, while I brush your hair for you, and see if you can’t pluck up a bit!”

“I’ll try,” Kate said, sighing. “But—oh, Sarah, it seems so fantastic that you should be dressing me for dinner when my aunt and Torquil are—are lying dead! It—it is almost indecent to wish to swallow a mouthful!”

“And when, miss, according to your calculations, will it be decent for you to eat your dinner again, like a Christian?” demanded Sarah somewhat tartly.

That made Kate laugh, and did much to lighten the oppression that weighed down her spirits. When she went down the Grand Stairway, she found Pennymore hovering in the hall, with the very evident intention of conducting her into Sir Timothy’s room. He smiled benignly upon her, saying that, if she would not think it presumptuous of him, he would venture to make so bold as to say that the sight of her would do Sir Timothy all the good in the world. “It’s a long time since I’ve seen him take such a fancy to anyone as he has to you, miss, and Tenby says the same. If you’ll come this way, you’ll find him and Mr Philip waiting for you.”

He preceded her to Sir Timothy’s room, but although he opened the door for her, and bowed her in, a discernment which she recognized as being extremely nice made him forbear to announce her. She went in unheralded, smiled shyly at Philip, who had risen quickly, and had taken two steps forward to meet her, but went past him, to bend over Sir Timothy, softly kissing his cheek.

He took her hand, and patted it. “Well, my pretty!” he said fondly. “So here you are! Pour her out a glass of Madeira, Philip! Sit down beside me, my dear! I’m afraid you have had a very uncomfortable day.”

She could not help feeling, as she recalled the events of the day, that this was a masterpiece of understatement, and she replied, rather faintly: “Yes, sir. It—it has been a little uncomfortable !”

He went on patting her hand. “Pennymore has been telling me that he doesn’t know what we could have done without you. Thank you, my dear! Your nurse, too! You must bring her to see me tomorrow: she sounds to be a most excellent woman, and I should wish to express my gratitude to her. That’s right, Philip! Pull up that little table, and set the glass on it! He and I have been discussing the future, Kate, and although it would make me very happy if you were to make Staplewood your home, you mustn’t do so if you feel the least disinclination! I shall go on very well, and I daresay you will come to visit me, so that I shall have that to look forward to.” He glanced across at Philip, with a melancholy smile. “I know you prefer the house your father built, my boy. Perhaps you will sell Staplewood, when it is yours: I shall be dead, so I shan’t know.”

“No, sir: I shan’t do that,” Philip said.

“Well, I can’t deny that I shall like to think that when I’ve cocked up my toes there will still be a Broome at Staplewood,” said Sir Timothy, more cheerfully. “You will have to decide both of you, whether you will come to live here immediately, or wait until I’m dead. I shan’t last for many more years, and I no longer have the health or the strength to manage my estates. You could do it, and I think it would be wise of you not to put off what I feel sure you think of as the evil day! However, I don’t mean to press you, and we won’t talk of it any more tonight.” He smiled at Kate. “Drink up your wine, my pretty! I think we won’t discuss anything that has happened today. We shall eat our dinner, and after that I shall challenge you to a rubber of piquet…’