About ten minutes after this, when Phoebe and Mike had gone off to talk over their more than semi-detached domestic affairs, La Fleur took the telegram from the drawer, replaced it in its envelope, which she closed and fastened so neatly that no one would have supposed that it had been opened.  Then she took from a shelf a railroad time-table, which lay in company with her cookbook and a few other well-worn volumes; for the good cook cared for reading very much as she cared for her own mayonnaise dressing; she wanted but little at a time, but she liked it.

“The last train to the city seems to be seven-ten,” she said to herself.  “No other train after that stops at Thorbury.  If he had been at home he would have taken an early afternoon train, which was what she expected, I suppose.  It will be a great pity for him to have to go tonight, and for no other reason than for that old trickster’s telegram.  If anything has really happened, he’ll get news of it in some sensible shape.”

At all events, there was nothing now to be done with the telegram, so she put it on the shelf, and set about her preparations for dinner, which had been very much delayed.

Ralph had gone off fishing; but, before starting, he had put Mrs. Browning to the gig and had told Cicely that as soon as her work was finished, she must take her mother for a drive.  The girl had been delighted, and the two had gone off for a long jog through the country lanes.

It was late in the afternoon when Ralph came striding homeward across the fields.  He was still a mile from Cobhurst, and on a bit of rising ground when, on the road below him, he saw Mrs. Browning and the gig, and to his surprise the good old mare was demurely trotting away from Cobhurst.

“Can it be possible,” he exclaimed, “that they have just started!” And he hurried down toward the road.  He now saw that there was only one person in the gig, and very soon he was near enough to perceive that this was Cicely.

“I expect you are wondering what I am doing here by myself, and where I am going,” she said, when she stopped and he stood by the gig.  “I shall tell you the exact truth, because I know you will not mind.  We started out a long time ago, but mother had a headache, and the motion of the gig made it worse.  She was trying to bear it so that I might have a drive, but I insisted upon turning back.  I took her as far as the orchard, where I left her, and since then I have been driving about by myself and having an awfully good time.  Mother did not mind that, as I promised not to go far away.  But I think I have now gone far enough along this road.  I like driving ever so much!  Don’t you want me to drive you home?”

“Indeed I do!” said Ralph, and in he jumped.

“I expect Miriam must be enjoying this lovely evening,” she said.  “And she will see the sun set from the beach, for Barport faces westward, and I never saw a girl enjoy sunsets as she does.  At this moment I expect her face is as bright as the sky.”