Her mother came to her there. She sat down in her armchair by the window-seat where the old work-basket stood piled with socks ready for darning. She took a sock and drew it over her hand, stretching it to find the worn places. Mary took its fellow and began to darn it. The coarse wool, scraping her finger-tips, sent through her a little light, creeping, disagreeable shock. She was afraid to look at her mother's face. "Well, Mary--poor Aunt Charlotte might have been carried away in her coffin, and we shouldn't have known if it had been left to you to tell us." "I didn't because I thought it would frighten you." Mamma was not frightened. They couldn't have told her what it was really like. Papa's slippers shuffled in the passage. Mamma left off darning to listen as Catty had listened. V. On Greffington Edge. Roddy was looking like Mark, with his eyes very steady and his mouth firm and proud. His face was red as if he were angry. That was when he saw the tall man coming towards them down the hill road. Roddy walked slowly, trying not to meet him at the cattle-gate. The tall man walked faster, and they met. Roddy opened the gate. The tall man thanked him, said "Good day," looked at her as he passed through, then stopped. "My sister--Mr. Sutcliffe." Mr. Sutcliffe, handsome with his boney, high-jointed nose and narrow jaw, thrust out, incongruously fierce, under his calm, clean upper lip, shaved to show how beautiful it was. His black blue eyes were set as carefully in their lids as a woman's. He wore his hair rather long. One lock had got loose and hung before his ear like a high whisker. He was asking Roddy when he was coming to play tennis, and whether his sister played. They might turn up tomorrow. The light played on his curling, handsome smile. He hoped she liked Rathdale. "She only came yesterday," Roddy said. "Well--come along to-morrow. About four o'clock. I'll tell my wife." And Roddy said, "Thanks," as if it choked him. Mr. Sutcliffe went on down the hill. "We can't go," Roddy said. "Why not?" "Well--" "Let's. He looked so nice, and he sounded as if he really wanted us." "He doesn't. He can't. You don't know what's happened." "_Has_ anything happened?" "Yes. I don't want to tell you, but you'll have to know. It happened at the Sutcliffes'." "Who _are_ the Sutcliffes?" "Greffington Hall. The people who own the whole ghastly place. We were dining there. And Papa was funny." "Funny? Funny what way?" "Oh, I don't know.--Like Dan was at Mark's party.' "Oh Roddy--" She was listening now. "Not quite so awful; but that sort of thing. We had to come away." "I didn't know he did." "No more did I. Mamma always said it wasn't that. But it was this time. And he chose that evening." "Does Mamma mind frightfully?" she said. "Yes. But she's angry with the Sutcliffes." "Why?" "Because they've _seen_ him." "How many Sutcliffes are there?" "Only him and Mrs. Sutcliffe. The son's in India.