|
Will could see that his attempts at apology were fruitless. Mad as a wet hen was the phrase which came to the fore of his thoughts. Best to let Prim's feathers unruffle in their own good time, he decided.
His own belly was beginning to grumble hungrily. And certainly, he reasoned to himself, the problem of Cook’s disappearance would be neither helped or hindered by a little breakfast. On second thought, he decided, it might really be helpful to eat . . . easier to make a plan and carry it out on a full belly.
‘Begging your pardon, Miz Rowan, but will there be breakfast coming . . . or second breakfast . . . or elevenses . . .?’ The voice from the doorway drew his attention.
‘Just a bit of a problem here,’ Will answered back. ‘Settle yourself in out there; we’ll bring you out a nice cuppa directly. And after that . . . well, we’ll just see, won’t we?’
|