As his butler bore down upon him with a purposeful expression, Robert snatched the scarf out of his hands. “Thank you, I’ll do it myself. I’m not a goose being trussed up for roasting.” “As you wish, sir.” Foley relinquished the thick wool scarf and stepped back. “I believe I see Miss Harrington and her sister on the driveway. Shall I ask her to call back later?” “Ask them if they’d like to accompany us on our outing. I’m sure Miss Harrington will be delighted to see me outside.” “Yes, sir.” Foley bowed and walked off at a decorous pace down toward the visitors who were approaching the front of the house on the driveway. Robert glanced at Bookman, who was deep in conversation with the estate carpenter who had fashioned the wheeled chair out of a variety of objects from his workshop. The wheels were quite large and probably from a carriage, and the chair was a padded one he remembered from his father’s study.
What do You think about Death Comes To The Village?
