When the car was out of sight I stopped to consider my position. There
was nothing to prevent my returning home at once and settling down, as
I had originally planned, in the corner of the deserted greenhouse. My
inclination was, of course, to do this, but it occurred to me that it
would be a charitable and kindly action to comfort Canon Beresford. He
had, so Lalage told me, been reduced to a condition of incoherence by
the ragging of Hilda's mother. He was also likely to have been a good
deal distressed by the sight of Hilda's tears and the sound of her sobs.
He would probably be sorry to lose Hilda. In spite of anything Lalage
might say I still believed Hilda to be a nice-minded girl, the sort of
girl that any man would like to have staying in his house. For all three
reasons the Canon would require sympathy and comfort. I drove on to the
rectory.

There I had, once more, to reconsider my position. The Canon was
comforting himself. He had, so the maid informed me, gone out fishing.
My first impulse was to start for home with a sigh of relief.. Then
I remembered that some one would have to explain to Lalage and Miss
Battersby that Hilda and her mother had really gone. The Canon would not
be able to do this because he had gone out fishing before they left. The
maid was obviously a stupid girl. It seemed to be my duty to wait for
Lalage and tell her, soothingly, what had happened. I went into the
Canon's study and made myself comfortable with a pipe.

At about one o'clock Lalage arrived without Miss Battersby. She made
no comment at first on the absence of Hilda's mother. Her mind had
evidently been turned away from that subject. She flung herself into a
chair, and dragged furiously at the pins which fastened on her hat. When
she had worked them loose she threw the hat itself on the floor.

"Great Scott!" she said. "I've had a time of it!"

"I rather thought you would."

"Curious, isn't it? For he can be a perfect pet when he likes. Glad I
don't get gout."

"You know perfectly well that it wasn't gout which was the matter with
him this time."

"It can't have been all my letter, can it?"

"It was," I said.

"Of course I wasn't going to stand that sort of thing," said Lalage.

"What sort of thing?"

"The way he talked, or, rather, tried to talk. I soon stopped him.
That's what makes me so hot. I wish you'd seen poor Pussy's face. I was
afraid every minute he'd mention her name and then she would have died