The man certainly had not gone,
he must be staying talking to Julia. Well, Julia could talk to him,
she was more fit to see the business through than her father was.
There was some comfort in this thought, but it did not last long, for
just then the silence was broken, there was a sound of steps, not
going down the path to the gate, but coming towards the kitchen door!
The Captain rose hastily--it was too bad of Julia, too bad! He was not
fit for these shocks and efforts; he was not what he used to be; the
terrible cold of the winter in this place had told on his rheumatism,
on his heart. He crossed the room quickly. The door which shut in the
staircase banged as that of the big kitchen was pushed open.
"You had better take your boots off here, Johnny," Julia said; "you
have got lots of mud on them."
She took off her own as she spoke, slipping out of them without having
much trouble with the laces. Rawson-Clew watched her, finding a
somewhat absurd satisfaction in seeing her small arched feet free of
the clumsy boots.
"Are not your stockings wet?" he said.
"No," she answered; "not a bit."
"Are you quite sure? I think they must be."
"No, they are not; are they, Johnny?" She stood on one foot and put
the other into Mr. Gillat's hand.
Johnny felt it carefully, giving it the same consideration that a wise
housekeeper gives to the airing of sheets, then he gave judgment in
favour of Julia.
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