Then the servant--not the Martha who had been privileged to smile on
duty if she felt so inclined--came with a tawny gold telegram on a
silver plate, and hesitated a moment as to where she should bestow it.
"Give it to me, Selina," said Janet.
Selina impassively obeyed, imitating as well as she could the deportment
of an automaton; and went away.
"That's my telegram," said Mr Orgreave. "How is it addressed?"
"Orgreave, Bleakridge, Bursley."
"Then it's mine."
"Oh no, it isn't!" Janet archly protested. "If you have your business
telegrams sent here you must take the consequences. I always open all
telegrams that come here, don't I, mother?"
Mrs Orgreave made no reply, but waited with candid and fretful
impatience, thinking of her five absent children, and her ten
grandchildren, for the telegram to be opened.
Janet opened it.
Her lips parted to speak, and remained so in silent astonishment. "Just
read that!" she said to Edwin, passing the telegram to him; and she
added to her father: "It was for me, after all."
Edwin read, aloud: "Am sending George down to-day. Please meet 6:30
train at Knype. Love. Hilda."
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Mrs Orgreave. "You don't mean to tell me
she's letting that boy travel alone! What next?"
"Where's the telegram sent from?" asked Mr Orgreave.