She came back with her head hanging down, as if to choose her way,--but we saw it was more in thought and bewilderment than for any such purpose.
She had not made up her mind where we should drive to when she got into the carriage again.

John Footman stood, bare-headed, waiting for orders.
"To Hathaway.

My dears, if you are tired, or if you have anything to do for Mrs.Medlicott, I can drop you at Barford Corner, and it is but a quarter of an hour's brisk walk home." But luckily we could safely say that Mrs.Medlicott did not want us; and as we had whispered to each other, as we sat alone in the coach, that surely my lady must have gone to Job Gregson's, we were far too anxious to know the end of it all to say that we were tired.

So we all set off to Hathaway.

Mr.Harry Lathom was a bachelor squire, thirty or thirty- five years of age, more at home in the field than in the drawing-room, and with sporting men than with ladies.
My lady did not alight, of course; it was Mr.Lathom's place to wait upon her, and she bade the butler,--who had a smack of the gamekeeper in him, very unlike our own powdered venerable fine gentleman at Hanbury,--tell his master, with her compliments, that she wished to speak to him.