‘Very unsafe to answer anything in my face,’ said the girl, hastily withdrawing her eyes.  ’There were two questions in my mind.  Good night, Mr. Rollo, and thank you.’

’Think better of it!’—­said Rollo, as he got into the carriage again.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

BREAKFAST FOR THREE.

Mrs. Bywank, inspecting her breakfast table from time to time, certainly had Mr. Rollo’s wish in her heart, even though it got no further.  And setting on orange marmalade for him, she pleased herself with also setting on honey for her; even though the portrait of a little child was all the sign of her young lady the room could boast.  But long habit had made it second nature to watch that face, no matter what else she was about.  Mrs. Bywank looked and smiled and sighed, and bent down to see if the honey was perfect.  It was late in the morning now:  Mr. Rollo’s slumbers had been allowed to extend themselves somewhat indefinitely in the direction which most men approve; and still breakfast waited, down stairs; and Mrs. Bywank at the tower window gazed down the slope and over the trees towards Wych Hazel’s present abiding place.  Not expecting to see her, but watching over her in her heart.  So standing, she was hailed by a cheery ‘good morning’ behind her.

’I suppose people who turn day into night have no right to expect the day will keep its promises to them; but you are better than my deserts, Mrs. Bywank.  I see a breakfast table!’

’Always ready for you, Mr. Rollo!  And you must be very ready too, by this time,’ she said, sounding her whistle down the stairs.  ‘Was Miss Wych at Oak Hill last night, sir?’

‘I had the pleasure of bringing her home.’

‘O, did you, sir?’ said Mrs. Bywank, with a quick look.  ’She told me she meant to go,—­but her mind comes about wonderfully sudden sometimes.  Here is breakfast, Mr. Rollo.  Will you take your old seat?’

’I think it will always come about in the right place at last,’ said Rollo, as he complied with the invitation.  The old housekeeper drew a sigh, looking up at the little picture.

‘My pretty one!’ she said.  Then applied herself to filling Mr. Rollo’s cup.  ‘Yes, sir, you’re right,’ she went on after a pause.  ’And she never would stop in a wrong one, not a minute, but for just a few things.’

‘Mrs. Bywank,’ said the young man, ’those few things are all around her.’

‘You’d think so if you could hear the serenades I hear,’ said the housekeeper, ’and see the flowers—­and hear the compliments.  She tells them to me sometimes, making fun.  But the trouble is with Miss Wych, she never will see the world with any eyes but her own,—­and who’s to make her?’

A problem which Rollo considered in silence, and probably swallowed instead of his coffee.

’Does she speak freely to you of her impressions, and of what she is doing or going to do?’