“How kind—how very kind he must be!” Kate exclaimed, much moved. “Pray tell him how grateful I am, ma’am! But—”

“No, no, let us have no buts!” interrupted Lady Broome. “You shall come to Staplewood on a visit merely. You can have no objection to spending a month or two in the country. Then, if you are still determined to seek another situation, I must try if I can find one for you.” She smiled at Kate’s quick look of inquiry. “Yes, I can, you know—and a better one than you could discover for yourself. However, we shan’t think of that yet. In another fortnight we shall be in May, and must hope that this odiously sharp wind will have blown itself out. Ah, you can’t conceive of any place more beautiful than Staplewood in summer!”

It was too tempting; it would be too churlish to refuse. Kate stammered her thanks, was silenced, and found herself listening to a description of the household.

“Sir Timothy,” said Lady Broome, “is many years older than I am, and has become very frail. I am his second wife, you must know, and my son, Torquil, is his only surviving child. He is some years younger than you.” She hesitated, looking all at once a little stern; then she sighed, and continued quietly: “I am sorry to say that his constitution is sickly. It has never been possible to send him to school. He is under the care of Dr Delabole, who also attends Sir Timothy, and lives with us. So you see, my dear, why I have so much wished for a daughter! I am a very lonely woman.”

Feeling all the embarrassment of one made the recipient of such a confidence, Kate murmured: “Yes. I mean, I see!”

Lady Broome leaned forward to pat her hand. “You don’t, of course, but never mind! you will! Now, we must decide, must we not, what it will be proper to pay your nurse for having housed you. Do you think—”

“Oh, no!” Kate exclaimed, recoiling. “No, no, ma’am! I beg you will not offer Sarah money! I shall give them all presents—Joe, and Mr Nidd, and the nephews as well!—but I must pay for them out of my own savings!”