Of course she was on Reginald's side in the family
quarrel, although she was the paid servant of the Foreign Office
paragon.
"And they are to be here next week. What day next week, Mrs.
Hopkins?" Mrs. Hopkins didn't know on what day she was to expect
the visitors, nor how long they intended to stay. Mr. John Morton
had said in his letter that he would send his own man down two days
before his arrival, and that was nearly all that he had said.
Then Morton started on his return walk to Dillsborough, again
taking the path across the bridge. "Ah!" he said to himself with a
shudder as he crossed the stile, thinking of his own softened
feelings as he had held out his hand to help Mary Masters, and then
of his revulsion of feeling when she declared her purpose of
walking home with Mr. Twentyman. And he struck the rail of the
bridge with his stick as though he were angry with the place
altogether. And he thought to himself that he would never come
there any more, that he hated the place, and that he would never
cross that bridge again.
Then his mind reverted to the tidings he had heard from Mrs.
Hopkins. What ought he to do when his cousin arrived? Though there
had been a long lawsuit, there had been no actual declared quarrel
between him and the heir. He had, indeed, never seen the heir for
the last twenty years, nor had they ever interchanged letters.
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