Chapter TwentyThat evening when they had had their supper and had cleared it away and washed up, William told Katharine all about Emily Salt and her listening at doors. He was making sketches of Crummocky Cows, sitting in a low chair and leaning forward with a writing-pad on his knee.
‘Of course she’s balmy,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how Mrs. Salt stands her. Whenever I’ve been there she’s either been peering round a door or disappearing round a corner. But all the same I don’t feel so happy about Mr. Tattlecombe’s will. He’s left me the business—did I tell you?’
Katharine said, ‘No.’
‘Well, he has. He told me about it that time I got knocked on the head. It’s awfully embarrassing when people tell you they’ve left you things in their wills.’
‘He told you that evening?’
‘Yes. He said Mrs
