MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 39 



"Come on, come on, it's breakfast time; I've written that 

 letter, Lavvy ! " the Squire's voice broke in. 



Miss Badsworth looked at her companion and nodded, as 

 much as to say " I told you so ". 



"Good business! " was implied in Jack's nod in reply. 



It was easy to gather from Charles Badsworth's cheery 

 manner at the breakfast table that a weight was taken off 

 his mind ; he had not yet arrived at that state in which one 

 awaits a reply to an important question. At present he 

 had held out the olive branch and with that he was content. 

 He knew all the ins and outs of the country for miles round, 

 and soon gave Jack to understand that his aunt's doubts 

 upon the subject of the probity of her tenants was unfounded. 



Jack Morgan came to the conclusion that the road to 

 Tordon was too short and the pony too fast ere he reached 

 the Duchy Arms. With profound regret he bade his fair 

 companion farewell. 



" Don't forget you promised father to come again," she 

 said gaily. Jack watched her as she drove away, the sun 

 shining on her curly hair where it stole from beneath the 

 brim of her sailor hat. He watched till at the curve of the 

 street she turned and waved her hand. 



"This come for you, sir, first thing when the office 

 opened," Tom Barlow's voice said behind him, and Jack 

 turned to see the orange cover of a telegram. It was from 

 his manservant. 



" The Squire was killed by a fall this afternoon. Jackson." 



For a moment Jack was paralysed by the news, then he 

 astonished Tom Barlow by running up the street as if for 

 his life. 



There was another curve in the road. Miss Badsworth 

 was out of sight, so he walked slowly back trying to collect 

 his thoughts. 



Tom Barlow saw him turn once more, and walk briskly 

 away. 



How short had been the drive — how long the walk to 

 Dewthorpe seemed to be ! 



