“Oh, Moley—!” Ruth exclaimed, and turned scarlet.
Here was another annoyance for Robert Corder. “That is not the way to address Miss Mole,” he said. “Miss Mole, I would rather you did not allow it.”
“But she doesn’t! I mean—it just slipped out. Miss Mole, two people wouldn’t make such a terrible lot of difference, would they?”
“With due notice, I can feed a regiment,” Hannah said grandly.
“There!” said Ruth, looking at her father boldly.
“Of course she can,” said Ethel, less in support of Ruth than in depreciation of Miss Mole. “I’ve done it myself and nobody thought anything of it.”
“Yes, we did. We thought a lot, because we couldn’t eat the Christmas puddings. You didn’t fill the basins and the water got in. Don’t you remember?”
“Ruthie, Ruthie, that isn’t kind. Ethel did her best. Now don’t get excited, but run off to school or you’ll be late.”
“But I am excited and there’s plenty of time. And Wilfrid will be away for the Christmas days and you know you always make him and Howard share a room when they’re here together, and what difference will Uncle Jim make? You can’t not have him, when it’s the first Christmas he’s had at home for years. But it won’t be the last! He’s left the sea!”
“Left the sea?” Robert Corder repeated, and he looked towards the letter which Ruth was putting in her pocket.
“Retired,” said Ruth, enjoying her private information. “He says he thinks he’ll buy a little farm,” and she disappeared before her father could make it difficult for her to keep her letter to herself.
“Well, well,” he said, tolerantly, “I suppose we must forgive a bluff sailor for his rough and ready manners. No doubt I shall hear from him before long.”
“And you’ll let him come, won’t you?” Ethel begged.
Robert Corder decided to become the indulgent father. “I see I shall have an unhappy Christmas if I don’t,” he said playfully and Hannah made a mental note of this weakness which, in anyone else, she might have called amiability.
It was plain that he did not care for Uncle Jim, who was Mrs. Corder’s brother and, with Mr. Blenkinsop’s affairs already developing in her mind, Hannah began busying herself with Uncle Jim, his sister and her husband, and seeking any information she could get, though she could manage very well without it.
While she crossed the downs, keeping to the paths for the sake of Lilla’s carpets, thinking that a grey sky was lovelier than a blue one, that the bare trees were exquisite against it and that the proper place for leaves was the ground, she was imagining little past scenes between Uncle Jim and Robert Corder, and clumsily tender ones between Mr. Blenkinsop and Mrs. Ridding. She did not trouble about the construction of her dramas: she saw pictures and framed sentences; she saw Uncle Jim with a protective arm round his sister’s waist and heard Mr. Blenkinsop saying solemnly, “Yes, since that very first evening—” She imagined Uncle Jim as a modern buccaneer, bronzed and bearded, and though she feared he would not actually have rings in his ears, it would be surprising not to see them there, and suddenly, the actors in her little scenes became Uncle Jim and herself. Those flashing eyes of his pierced below her plain exterior and recognised a kindred spirit, and he would carry her off to sea, for really, it was absurd for a sailor to think he could turn farmer, but, if he persisted, she would be there to help him, and they would adopt Ruth and live happy ever after.
“H’m,” Hannah said in self-derision. She had arrived at Lilla’s chains and posts, and the windows of the red and white house were looking at her with coldly-practical eyes. Her fancies could not live under that gaze. The bold buccaneer would choose a buxom wench for partner; Miss Mole must continue to trust in the rich old gentleman, and she was wondering whether Lilla knew anything about Mr. Samson, when the severe parlourmaid opened the door and, making no mistake this time, took Hannah to the drawing-room.
“You’re looking very well, Hannah,” Lilla said, taking the credit to herself.
“And you’re looking more like a robin than ever, dear,” Hannah said, making the usual peck at her cousin’s cheek. “It’s nice to see you in your natural habitat, or whatever they call it. You have such an exalted expression in chapel that I hardly know you, though of course, I’m proud of our slight acquaintance.”
“Now, don’t begin your nonsense, but tell me how you’re getting on.”
“I shouldn’t like to boast,” Hannah said, “until I hear what Mr. Corder has told you.”
“Very little. Naturally, as I recommended you, he wouldn’t like to make any complaints to me. And, perhaps, there are none to make,” she added generously. “How do you think you are managing yourself?”
“Splendidly! Almost too well, I’m sometimes afraid. I’m glad to have you to confide in, Lilla. I’m rather worried and I want your advice.”
“Then it’s the first time you’ve wanted anybody’s,” Lilla said drily, and her bright eyes hardened with suspicion.
“Thank God, I’ve never had the same need to!” Hannah exclaimed. “You’ll hardly believe me, Lilla—”
“You may be sure of that, but, whatever it is, just talk about something else till the tea has come in.”
“Yes,” said Hannah, “that’s the kind of thing it is. And I hope it’s a good tea, because I’ve been rather mean with ours lately. Saving up for Christmas. We’re going to have Mrs. Corder’s brother with
