"I am afraid so," replied he quietly. "The fact is Miss Strickland enlisted my services, without making the least enquiry as to my capabilities, hence this unfortunate failure. But I have resigned the post I have filled so badly; will you take my place and do better?"
"I am very sorry to refuse, but I have promised to have a game of billiards with Strickland, and the time's up," said he, looking at his watch. "Many thanks to you all the same, my dear fellow, for making me the offer of such a Penelope's web to unravel." And he passed on. Mr. Hall followed.
"Tiresome, abominable man!" exclaimed Frances, gathering up the wool apparently hopelessly entangled, and advancing towards the fire where still sat Mrs. Linchmore. "Is not that Mr. Hall too bad; just see what he has done--quite spoilt my skein."
"How was it managed?" asked Mrs. Linchmore carelessly.
"I asked him to hold it; of course I ought to have known better, such a stupid creature as he is; his fingers are as awkward as his legs. I cannot think how it is you invite him here, unless it is to be in the way and make himself disagreeable; as in this instance."
"Disagreeable! You are the first person, Frances, I ever heard apply that epithet to Mr. Hall; no one ever thinks of him, and had you left him alone, it would not have happened."
"I know that; but I took compassion on him; you and Mr. Vavasour were so deeply engaged," she said maliciously; "you never gave him a thought, and because I did, this is my thanks. I shall be wiser for the future."
"As most people are. Learn wisdom, and yet commit foolish actions every day of their lives."
"Perhaps I shall be different from most people," and she commenced trying to disentangle the wool.
"A hopeless task," said Mrs. Linchmore, "only waste of time and temper; better let it alone, there are plenty of wools upstairs in my work basket; I have no doubt Mason will find you a match for this, if you ask her, you are most welcome to any I have," and she took up the book she had laid down, as a hint to Frances she wished the conversation to end.
So at least Frances thought, and left her alone, after first putting away the wool in the sofa table drawer.
But Mrs. Linchmore did not read, she laid the book carelessly in her lap, and was soon, apparently, deep in thought, from which she was only aroused by her husband's entrance; drawing a half sigh at the interruption, she took up her book again, and gave no reply to his greeting.