Miss Bilson waved her hands hysterically.

“No—­no—­I never wish to mention it again.  I am too deeply hurt by your behaviour to me, Damaris—­your sarcasm.—­Of course,” she added, “I see I must withdraw my offer.  It will cause the greatest inconvenience and disappointment; but for that I cannot hold myself responsible, though it will be most painful and embarrassing to me after the kind appreciation I have received.  Still I must withdraw it”—­

“Withdraw what offer?”

“Why the offer I was explaining to you just now, when you ordered the maids out of the room.  You really cannot deny that you heard what I said, Damaris, because you mentioned the carriage horses yourself.”

Theresa sipped some water.  She was recovering if not her temper, yet her grasp on the main issue.  She wanted, so desperately, to achieve her purpose and, incidentally, to continue to play, both for her own benefit and that of the parish, her self-elected role of Lady Bountiful, of “official representative of The Hard”—­as Dr. Horniblow by a quite innocent if ill-timed flourish of speech had unfortunately put it.

“The conveyances in the village are insufficient to take the whole party to the station,” she continued.  “An extra brake can be had at the Stag’s Head in Mary church; but a pair of horses must be sent in to-morrow afternoon to bring it over here.  I saw”—­she hesitated a moment—­“I really could see no objection to Patch taking our horses in to fetch the brake, and driving a contingent to the station in it next morning.”

“And meeting the train at night, I suppose?” Damaris said calmly.

“Of course,” Theresa answered, thus unconsciously declaring herself a rank outsider, and rushing blindly upon her fate.

For what thoroughbred member of the equestrian order does not know that next—­and even that not always—­to the ladies of his family and, possibly, the key of his cellar, an Englishman’s stable is sacrosanct?  Dispose of anything he owns rather than his horses.  To attempt touching them is, indeed, to stretch out your hand against the Ark of the Covenant and risk prompt withering of that impious limb.  Yet poor Theresa blundered on.

“I told the vicar that, Sir Charles being from home, I felt I might make the offer myself, seeing how much it would simplify the arrangements and how very little work Patch has when you and I are alone here.  It is a pity there is not time to obtain Sir Charles’s sanction.  That would be more proper, of course, more satisfactory.  But under the circumstances it need not, I think, be regarded as an insuperable objection.  I told the Miss Minetts and the vicar”—­

Here Miss Bilson blushed, applying fork and spoon, in coy confusion, to the remains of the nectarine upon her plate.

“I told them,” she repeated, “knowing Sir Charles as well as I do, I felt I might safely assure them of that.”