It was not until early afternoon the next day that a dreadful old car clanked up Elm Street and stopped in front of the brick house. A hatless man sprang from it and rushed up the steps. The bell was rung as it had never been rung before—vehemently, intensely. The ringer was demanding entrance, not asking it. Uncle Benjamin chuckled¹ as he hurried to the door. Uncle Benjamin had “just dropped in” to enquire² how dear Doss—Valancy was. Dear Doss—Valancy, he had been informed, was just the same. She had come down for breakfast—which she didn’t eat—gone back to her room, come down for dinner—which she didn’t eat—gone back to her room. That was all. She had not talked. And she had been let, kindly³, considerately, alone.

 

“Very good. Redfern will be here today,” said Uncle Benjamin. And now Uncle Benjamin’s reputation as a prophet was made. Redfern was here—unmistakably so.

 

“Is my wife here?” he demanded of Uncle Benjamin without preface.

 

Uncle Benjamin smiled expressively⁴.

 

“Mr. Redfern, I believe? Very glad to meet you, sir. Yes, that naughty little girl of yours is here. We have been——”

 

“I must see her,” Barney cut Uncle Benjamin ruthlessly short.

 

“Certainly, Mr. Redfern. Just step in here. Valancy will be down in a minute.”

 

He ushered⁵ Barney into the parlour and betook himself to the sitting-room⁶ and Mrs. Frederick.

 

“Go up and tell Valancy to come down. Her husband is here.”

 

But so dubious⁷ was Uncle Benjamin as to whether Valancy could really come down in a minute—or at all—that he followed Mrs. Frederick on tiptoe up the stairs and listened in the hall.

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