Later on that morning she went again to her writing-table and wrote to Lady Avalon, who was expected in a couple of days’ time. Would she care to bring her daughter Sidney with her? It was no doubt very dull at Royd, but there was just a chance of Harry coming home from Egypt. She sat considering for a moment when she had written this, but closed her letter without adding any more. Harry was extremely unlikely to be at Royd in a few days’ time, but if Sidney had already been there when he did come home it would be easier to ask her there again. After this she went down to the village, taking Ben, Harry’s retriever, with her. She called at the Vicarage. The Grants were to be asked to dine when Lady Avalon came. The maid who opened the door looked at her rather curiously, but she did not notice it. Mrs. Grant was in the drawing-room and sprang up to meet her. "Oh, I’m so glad!" she said, and came forward, her hand held out and her face all alight with pleasure. Lady Brent was taken aback by the warmth of the greeting. She liked Mrs. Grant and supposed that Mrs. Grant liked her, but she was not accustomed to this kind of welcome. "Thank you," she said, a shade drily. "I came to ask if you and your husband would dine with me on Thursday. Lady Avalon will be staying with me, and possibly her daughter, Lady Sidney Pawle." "Oh, thank you, yes, we shall be very pleased," said Mrs. Grant. "Will Harry be home by then? He might, mightn’t he? Oh, I am so glad he’s coming at last." Lady Brent understood now, but it took her a little time to recover herself. "He has written to Jane, I suppose," she said, speaking in as natural a tone as possible. "There was a letter from him this morning, but it was to his mother, and I was not expecting to get the news in it until this evening." "Oh, I’ll go and get the letter at once," said Mrs. Grant, and ran out of the room, leaving Lady Brent alone. She sat quite still, and the colour that had left her face returned to it again. When Mrs. Grant came back, accompanied by Jane, with the precious letter in her hand, she had quite recovered herself. Jane was rather a favourite of Lady Brent’s. She was not in the least afraid of her, as her elders were apt to be, and talked to her about Harry in a way that nobody else did. She was often invited to the Castle by herself, and was always ready to go, though it might have been thought that her inclinations towards bodily activity would have made it a doubtful pleasure to have to sit and talk to an elderly woman. Probably she was the only person in the world of whom Lady Brent would not feel jealous because she had received this news first. "I thought I’d like to bring you the letter myself," said Jane, and stood by her side as she read it.