Send word by the bearer when I
may look for you. I am not well.
"Yours truly,
"F. G. REDMAIN."
Mary went to her desk and wrote a reply, saying she would be with
him the next morning about eleven o'clock. She would have gone
that same night, she said, but, as it was Saturday, she could
not, because of country customers, close in time to go so far.
"Give it into Mr. Redmain's own hand, if you can, Jemima," she
said.
"I will try; but I doubt if I can, miss," answered the girl.
"Between ourselves, Jemima," said Mary, "I do not trust that man
Mewks."
"Nobody does, miss, except the master and Miss Yolland."
"Then," thought Mary, "the thing is worse than I had supposed."
"I'll do what I can, miss," Jemima went on. "But he's so sharp!--
Mr. Mewks, I mean."
After she was gone, Mary wished she had given her a verbal
message; that she might have insisted on delivering in person.
Jemima, with circumspection, managed to reach Mr. Redmain's room
unencountered, but just as she knocked at the door, Mewks came
behind her from somewhere, and snatching the letter out of her
hand, for she carried it ready to justify her entrance to the
first glance of her irritable master, pushed her rudely away, and
immediately went in. But as he did so he put the letter in his
pocket.
"Who took the note?" asked his master.
"The girl at the lodge, sir.
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