The next afternoon, Patience carried out her long-intended plan of
calling at the manor. Mrs. Shaw was from home for the day, Pauline and
Hilary were out in the trap with Tom and Josie and the camera. "So
there's really no one to ask permission of, Towser," Patience
explained, as they started off down the back lane. "Father's got the
study door closed, of course that means he mustn't be disturbed for
anything unless it's absolutely necessary."
Towser wagged comprehendingly. He was quite ready for a ramble this
bright afternoon, especially a ramble 'cross lots.
Shirley and her father were not at home, neither--which was even more
disappointing--were any of the dogs; so, after a short chat with Betsy
Todd, considerably curtailed by that body's too frankly expressed
wonder that Patience should've been allowed to come unattended by any
of her elders, she and Towser wandered home again.
In the lane, they met Sextoness Jane, sitting on the roadside, under a
shady tree. She and Patience exchanged views on parish matters,
discussed the new club, and had an all-round good gossip.
"My sakes!" Jane said, her faded eyes bright with interest, "it must
seem like Christmas all the time up to your house.
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