“I think it’s very good of you all to put up with him,” said Miss Pendarth drily, “I’ve never said so before, my dear, but I thought it exceedingly ungrateful of him not to have come down here when he was in England a year ago, I mean when he sent that puppy to your brother Timmy.”

Betty remained silent, and for once her old friend felt—­what she too seldom did feel—­that she might just as well have kept her thoughts to herself.

Miss Pendarth was really attached to Betty Tosswill, but she was one of those people—­there are many such—­who find it all too easy to hurt those they love.

They both got up.

“I’m afraid you think me very uncharitable,” said the older woman suddenly.

Betty looked at her rather straight.  “I sometimes think it strange,” she said slowly, “that anyone as kind and clever as I know you are, does not make more allowances for people.  For my part, I wonder that Godfrey is coming here at all.  As I look back and remember all that happened—­I don’t think that anyone at Old Place behaved either kindly or fairly to him—­I mean about our engagement.”

Miss Pendarth was moved as well as surprised by Betty’s quiet words.  The girl was extraordinarily reserved—­she very rarely spoke out her secret thoughts.  But Miss Pendarth was destined to be even more surprised, for Betty suddenly put out her hand, and laid it on the other’s arm.

“I want to tell you,” she said earnestly, “that as far as I am concerned, everything that happened then is quite, quite over.  I don’t think that Godfrey would have been happy with me, and so I feel that we both had a great escape.  I want to tell you this because so many people knew of our engagement, and I’m afraid his coming back like this may cause a lot of silly, vulgar talk.”

Miss Pendarth was more touched than she would have cared to admit even to herself.  “You can count on me, my dear,” she said gravely, “and may I say, Betty, that I feel sure you’re right in feeling that you would have been most unhappy with him?”

As Betty walked on to the post office she was glad that that little ordeal was over.

* * * * *

John Tosswill was one of those men who instinctively avoid and put off as long as may be, a difficult or awkward moment.  That was perhaps one reason why he had not made a better thing of his life.  So his wife was not surprised when, after luncheon, he observed rather nervously that he was going out, and that she must tell Godfrey Radmore how sorry he was not to be there to welcome him.

As she remained silent, he added, rather shamefacedly:—­“I’ll be back in time to have a few words with him before dinner.”