"This, then, is what I want you to do. Find Margery this afternoon and say
to her: 'Margery, I've met your cousin Harry. Would you like to have him
come home again?' Watch her face then--you're a shrewd little fellow--and
if she looks happy and pleased about it you must let me know, but if she
looks glum and as if her plans had been upset, you must tell me just the
same. Never mind what she says, watch her face. Will you do it?"
"Rather!" We shook hands on it.
"But--" I asked, "when shall I see you? I daren't come here again, I'm
afraid."
"Tomorrow is Saturday," he replied thoughtfully. "The Bishop will keep to
his study till noon--"
"And Mrs. Handsomebody goes to market!" I chimed in.
"Good. I'll be at the Cathedral corner at ten o'clock. Meet me there. Now
you'd better cut home."
He took my arm and led me down the strange winding stairway, through the
cool damp passage where the grapevine grew, to the sunken doorstep.
"Know your way home?" he demanded. "Right-o! I depend on you, John. And
mind you watch her face, _like a cat_. Good-bye!" And he affectionately
squeezed my arm.