"That's the ice," she said, rejoicingly. "We sent for it to Pengarth this
afternoon."
And she fled on light steps to the front door.
"Sent whom? _My_ man--_My_ cart!" growled Melrose, following her, to
verify the outrage with his own eyes. And there indeed at the steps stood
the light cart, the only vehicle which the master of the Tower possessed,
driven by his only outdoor servant, Joe Backhouse, who had succeeded
Dixon as gardener. It was full of packages, which the nurse was eagerly
taking out, comparing them with a list she held in her hand.
"And of course I'm to pay for them!" thought Melrose furiously. No doubt
his credit has been pledged up to the hilt already for this intruder,
this beggar at his gates by these impertinent women. He stood there
watching every packet and bundle with which the nurse was loading her
strong arms, feeling himself the while an utterly persecuted and injured
being, the sport of gods and men; when the sight of a motor turning the
corner of the grass-grown drive, diverted his thoughts.
The doctor--the arch-villain of the plot!
Melrose bethought himself a moment. Then he went along the corridor to
his library, half expecting to see some other invader ensconced in his
own chair. He rang the bell and Dixon hurriedly appeared.
"Show Doctor Undershaw in here."
And standing on the rug, every muscle in his tall and still vigorous
frame tightening in expectation of the foe, he looked frowning round the
chaos of his room.
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