‘Did my mother tell you about the people who came to tea?’ he asked. ‘There was a flock of them, and one was the man that Mr. Haraldsen and I met on Tuesday — the chap on horseback who wanted to have another look at us.’
‘What was his name?’ I asked.
‘They all called him Frankie. My mother thinks it was something like Warrender — but not Warrender. I took him to see the horses, and he asked a lot of questions.’
‘Wasn’t there another man?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but he didn’t count. He was a sort of artist or antiquarian, and couldn’t be got away from the tithe-barn. It was this Frankie chap that mattered. He made me take him all over the place, and he asked me all sorts of questions about who lived here, and what their jobs were, and who our friends were, and if many people came to stay with u
