Mrs. Herriton was very careful to let those peas trickle evenly from her hand, and at the end of the row she was conscious that she had never sown better.  They were expensive too.

“Actually old Mrs. Theobald!” said Harriet, returning.

“Read me the letter.  My hands are dirty.  How intolerable the crested paper is.”

Harriet opened the envelope.

“I don’t understand,” she said; “it doesn’t make sense.”

“Her letters never did.”

“But it must be sillier than usual,” said Harriet, and her voice began to quaver.  “Look here, read it, Mother; I can’t make head or tail.”

Mrs. Herriton took the letter indulgently.  “What is the difficulty?” she said after a long pause.  “What is it that puzzles you in this letter?”

“The meaning—­” faltered Harriet.  The sparrows hopped nearer and began to eye the peas.

“The meaning is quite clear—­Lilia is engaged to be married.  Don’t cry, dear; please me by not crying—­don’t talk at all.  It’s more than I could bear.  She is going to marry some one she has met in a hotel.  Take the letter and read for yourself.”  Suddenly she broke down over what might seem a small point.  “How dare she not tell me direct!  How dare she write first to Yorkshire!  Pray, am I to hear through Mrs. Theobald—­a patronizing, insolent letter like this?  Have I no claim at all?  Bear witness, dear”—­she choked with passion—­“bear witness that for this I’ll never forgive her!”

“Oh, what is to be done?” moaned Harriet.  “What is to be done?”

“This first!” She tore the letter into little pieces and scattered it over the mould.  “Next, a telegram for Lilia!  No! a telegram for Miss Caroline Abbott.  She, too, has something to explain.”

“Oh, what is to be done?” repeated Harriet, as she followed her mother to the house.  She was helpless before such effrontery.  What awful thing—­what awful person had come to Lilia?  “Some one in the hotel.”  The letter only said that.  What kind of person?  A gentleman?  An Englishman?  The letter did not say.

“Wire reason of stay at Monteriano.  Strange rumours,” read Mrs. Herriton, and addressed the telegram to Abbott, Stella d’Italia, Monteriano, Italy.  “If there is an office there,” she added, “we might get an answer this evening.  Since Philip is back at seven, and the eight-fifteen catches the midnight boat at Dover—­Harriet, when you go with this, get 100 pounds in 5 pound notes at the bank.”

“Go, dear, at once; do not talk.  I see Irma coming back; go quickly....  Well, Irma dear, and whose team are you in this afternoon—­Miss Edith’s or Miss May’s?”