Mystery fiction; Yorkshire (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Whatever can we do?" cried Mrs. Jackson, with the hopeless distress of
a woman overwhelmed by some unforeseen and tragic occurrence. "That
impudent young Walker came and snatched at the keys before I could stop
him. And they've gone there, the pair of 'em! There they are
now--halfway up the hill."
All this, of course, was couched in "broad Yorkshire," which, however,
need not enter into the record. The two gazed at the men in the
dog-cart, who were partly visible above a yew hedge, since the by-road
in which the Grange was situated turned up the hill by the gable of Mrs.
Jackson's cottage.
"Oh, mother!" said the girl, in awe-stricken accents, "why didn't you
hide 'em?"
"How was I to hide 'em? I was knocked all of a heap. Who'd have thought
of anyone coming here to-day, of all days in the year?"
"Who's that with him?" Betty almost sobbed.
"The man who's going over the house, of course."
"Oh, dear! If only I'd known! I'd have taken the keys and gone with
them."
"What good would that have done?"
"I might have humbugged them into waiting a minute or two. I'd have
thought of some excuse. But don't worry too much, mother. Maybe they'll
give the least little look round, and come away again."
"And maybe they won't," cried Mrs. Jackson angrily, for she was
recovering from her fright, and her daughter's implied reproach was
irritating. "I did my best, and it can't be helped now, no matter what
happens. Run after them, Betty, and offer to help. You may manage
something, even now."
The girl needed no second bidding. She was through the cottage and out
in the road in a jiffy. But she had lost a minute or more already, and
the sturdy galloway was climbing a steep hill quickly. When she reached
a garden gate to which the reins were tied, the front door of the Grange
stood open, and the visitors were inside.
"Oh, dear!" she breathed, in a heart-broken way. "Oh, dear! If only
mother had called me sooner! Now, it's too late! And I promised that no
one should know. Well, I must do my best. Just a bit of luck, and I may
pull things straight yet!"
CHAPTER II
SHOWING HOW EVEN A HOUSE MAY HAVE A WAY OF ITS OWN
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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