go and
make other mistakes. I only hope you'll get 'scot free' from those,
too, for I don't like to see nice men burn their fingers. We became
such good friends huddled up in that boat when we were stuck in the
mud--Ugh! I can smell it now!--that I am glad to be the first to send
you pleasant news.

"Sincerely yours,
"ROBINETTA LORING."

XVII

MRS. DE TRACY CROSSES THE FERRY

Lavendar's blunt refusal, except under certain conditions, to
announce to Mrs. Prettyman her coming ejection from the cottage at
Wittisham, was unprofessional enough, as he himself felt; but it
was final and categorical. Conveying as it did a sort of tacit
remonstrance, this refusal had an unfortunate effect, for it only
served to rouse Mrs. de Tracy's formidable obstinacy. She had
seized upon one point only in their numberless and wearisome
discussions of the matter: Mrs. Prettyman had no legal claim upon
Stoke Revel. To give her compensation for the plum tree would be to
allow that she had; to create a precedent highly dangerous under the
circumstances. How could one refuse to other old women or old men
leaving their cottages what one had weakly granted to her? The
demands would be unceasing, the trouble endless. So arguing, Mrs. de
Tracy soon brought herself to a state of determination bordering on a
sort of mania. She was old, and in exaggerated harshness her life was
retreating as it were into its last stronghold, at bay.

As good as her word, for she had vowed she would warn Mrs. Prettyman
herself, and she was never one to procrastinate, the lady of the Manor
proceeded to plan her visit to Wittisham. She had not crossed the
river for years. Wittisham, one of the loveliest villages in England,
perhaps, though little known, was a thorn in her side, as it would
have been in that of any other landlord with empty pockets.

What you could not deal with to your own advantage, it was better to
ignore, and on this autocratic principle, Mrs. de Tracy had left
Wittisham to itself.

But now the boat carried her there, alone and fierce--_thrawn_, as
the Scotch say--bent upon a course of conduct that she knew would
hold her up to the hatred of every right-thinking person of her
acquaintance, and bitterly triumphant in the knowledge. The
meanness of her errand never struck her. On the contrary, she would
have argued it was one well worthy of her,