Hetty stopped close beside him and looked down with a little smile, though there was just a shade more colour than usual in her face.
"You are worn out, and needn't worry about it until you have had supper," she said. "If I had known you would come back like this I would never have let you go."
"I didn't mean you to wear yourself out to save those lazy miners from baking their own bread."
Ingleby shook his head. "I shall be all right to-morrow, and I'm going to talk," he said, "That wasn't why you sent me. One doesn't start a bakery out of philanthropy."
"Well," said Hetty, "you know I wanted the money."
"For Tom and me!" said Ingleby reproachfully. "I felt horribly mean about it all the way to the settlement."
"Is it very unpleasant then to let me do anything for you?"
"No," said Ingleby. "That is, of course, it's generally very nice. Still, in this case----"
Hetty looked at him curiously. "Oh, I know! Still, you seemed quite angry once because I didn't care to let you lend Tom the money to bring us out."
Hetty smiled. "Yes," she said. "When one is a girl it usually is."
Ingleby, who was very drowsy, did not seem quite sure what to make of this, and gazed meditatively at the fire.
"That stone hearth wasn't there when I left," he said. "Who made it, Hetty?"
"Tomlinson. Tom went round to tell the boys about the bakery, and Tomlinson came over to show him how to build the oven."
"And he made this chair? Now I think of it we hadn't one before, and Tom certainly didn't make it. It's too comfortable."
Ingleby seemed by no means pleased. "It seems to me," he said severely, "that Tomlinson has been doing a good deal here. Now, you ought to know that when you want any improvements made you have only to ask Tom and me."
"Could you build a chimney like that one?"
"No," said Ingleby decisively. "If I must be honest, I don't think I could. Still, there wasn't the least occasion to ask Tomlinson. He must have been here more than once?"
"I believe he was here three or four times."
Hetty laughed. "He said it was to see how Tom was getting on with the oven."
"Of course!" said Ingleby. "Well, I suppose one excuse was as good as another. One would, however, fancy that Tomlinson had quite enough to do looking after his mine."