Mother and Son

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“The person has arrived, ma’am.”

“What person?” said Mrs. Hume.

“The person who was expected, ma’am.”

“And who was expecting her?”

“I supposed it was yourself, ma’am. It would be the assumption.”

“And how would you refer to someone I was expecting?”

“I understood she was to be under consideration, ma’am.”

“Is that an answer to my question?”

“The lady has arrived, ma’am. She has found her way,” said the parlourmaid, with a change in her tone.

“Found her way? What do you mean?”

“Along that road from the station, ma’am. Under the shadow of all those trees. The dusk is already threatening.”

“You can show her in,” said Miranda Hume, not raising her eyes or her hands from the newspaper on her knees. “And you children keep to your side of the room and appear to be occupied. You can stay where you are, my son.”

Two boys and a girl exchanged a glance and moved away, and were actually occupied in giving their attention to the scene. A middle-aged man remained, as directed, in his seat.

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