Chapter: She was looking at plans one day in the following spring--they had
finally decided to go down into Sussex and build--when Mrs. Charles
Wilcox was announced.

"Have you heard the news?" Dolly cried, as soon as she entered the room.
"Charles is so ang--I mean he is sure you know about it, or, rather, that
you don't know."

"Why, Dolly!" said Margaret, placidly kissing her. "Here's a surprise!
How are the boys and the baby?"

Boys and the baby were well, and in describing a great row that there
had been at the Hilton Tennis Club, Dolly forgot her news. The wrong
people had tried to get in. The rector, as representing the older
inhabitants, had said--Charles had said--the tax-collector had
said--Charles had regretted not saying--and she closed the description
with, "But lucky you, with four courts of your own at Midhurst."

"It will be very jolly," replied Margaret.

"Are those the plans? Does it matter my seeing them?"

"Of course not."

"Charles has never seen the plans."

"They have only just arrived. Here is the ground floor--no, that's
rather difficult. Try the elevation, We are to have a good many gables
and a picturesque sky-line."

"What makes it smell so funny?" said Dolly, after a moment's inspection.
She was incapable of understanding plans or maps.

"I suppose the paper."

"And WHICH way up is it?"

"Just the ordinary way up. That's the sky-line and the part that smells
strongest is the sky."

"Well, ask me another. Margaret--oh--what was I going to say? How's
Helen?"

"Quite well."

"Is she never coming back to England? Every one thinks it's awfully odd
she doesn't."

"So it is," said Margaret, trying to conceal her vexation. She was
getting rather sore on this point. "Helen is odd, awfully. She has now
been away eight months."

"But hasn't she any address?"

"A poste restante somewhere in Bavaria is her address. Do write her a
line. I will look it up for you."

"No, don't bother. That's eight months she has been away, surely?"

"Exactly. She left just after Evie's wedding. It would be eight months."

"Just when baby was born, then?"

"Just so."

Dolly sighed, and stared enviously round the drawing-room. She was
beginning to lose her brightness and good looks. The Charles's were not
well off, for Mr. Wilcox, having brought up his children with expensive
tastes, believed in letting them shift for themselves. After all, he
had not treated them generously. Yet another baby was expected, she
told Margaret, and they would have to give up the motor. Margaret
sympathised, but in a formal fashion, and Dolly little imagined that the
stepmother was urging Mr. Wilcox to make them a more liberal allowance.
She sighed again, and at last the particular grievance was remembered.
"Oh, yes," she cried, "that is it: Miss Avery has been unpacking your
packing-cases."

"Why has she done that? How unnecessary!"

"Ask another. I suppose you ordered her to."

"I gave no such orders. Perhaps she was airing the things. She did
undertake to light an occasional fire."

"It was far more than an air," said Dolly solemnly. "The floor sounds
covered with books. Charles sent me to know what is to be done, for he
feels certain you don't know."

"Books!" cried Margaret, moved by the holy word. "Dolly, are you
serious? Has she been touching our books?"

"Hasn't she, though! What used to be the hall's full of them. Charles
thought for certain you knew of it."

"I am very much obliged to you, Dolly. What can have come over Miss
Avery? I must go down about it at once. Some of the books are my
brother's, and are quite valuable. She had no right to open any of the
cases."

"I say she's dotty. She was the one that never got married, you know.
Oh, I say, perhaps, she thinks your books are wedding-presents to
herself. Old maids are taken that way sometimes. Miss Avery hates us all
like poison ever since her frightful dust-up with Evie."

"I hadn't heard of that," said Margaret. A visit from Dolly had its
compensations.

"Didn't you know she gave Evie a present last August, and Evie returned
it, and then--oh, goloshes! You never read such a letter as Miss Avery
wrote."

"But it was wrong of Evie to return it. It wasn't like her to do such a
heartless thing."

"But the present was so expensive."

"Why does that make any difference, Dolly?"

"Still, when it costs over five pounds--I didn't see it, but it was
a lovely enamel pendant from a Bond Street shop. You can't very well
accept that kind of thing from a farm woman. Now, can you?"

"You accepted a present from Miss Avery when you were married."

"Oh, mine was old earthenware stuff--not worth a halfpenny. Evie's was
quite different. You'd have to ask any one to the wedding who gave you
a pendant like that. Uncle Percy and Albert and father and Charles all
said it was quite impossible, and when four men agree, what is a girl to
do? Evie didn't want to upset the old thing, so thought a sort of joking
letter best, and returned the pendant straight to the shop to save Miss
Avery trouble."

"But Miss Avery said--"

Dolly's eyes grew round. "It was a perfectly awful letter. Charles said
it was the letter of a madman. In the end she had the pendant back again
from the shop and threw it into the duck-pond."

"Did she give any reasons?"

"We think she meant to be invited to Oniton, and so climb into society."

"She's rather old for that," said Margaret pensively.

"May she not have given the present to Evie in remembrance of her
mother?"

"That's a notion. Give every one their due, eh? Well, I suppose I ought
to be toddling. Come along, Mr. Muff--you want a new coat, but I don't
know who'll give it you, I'm sure;" and addressing her apparel with
mournful humour, Dolly moved from the room.

Margaret followed her to ask whether Henry knew about Miss Avery's
rudeness.

"Oh yes."

"I wonder, then, why he let me ask her to look after the house."

"But she's only a farm woman," said Dolly, and her explanation proved
correct. Henry only censured the lower classes when it suited him. He
bore with Miss Avery as with Crane--because he could get good value out
of them. "I have patience with a man who knows his job," he would say,
really having patience with the job, and not the man. Paradoxical as it
may sound, he had something of the artist about him; he would pass over
an insult to his daughter sooner than lose a good charwoman for his
wife.

Margaret judged it better to settle the little trouble herself. Parties
were evidently ruffled. With Henry's permission, she wrote a pleasant
note to Miss Avery, asking her to leave the cases untouched. Then, at
the first convenient opportunity, she went down herself, intending to
repack her belongings and store them properly in the local warehouse;
the plan had been amateurish and a failure. Tibby promised to accompany
her, but at the last moment begged to be excused. So, for the second
time in her life, she entered the house alone.

 The Wilcoxes decide to build a new house in Sussex, and one day, as Margaret is examining the plans, Dolly bursts in. Dolly has big news, but she's distracted for a bit as she relates the local gossip to Margaret. They discuss the new house, then Helen, then Charles and Dolly's financial situation . Finally, Dolly remembers what she came to talk about: Miss Avery, the old lady who takes care of Howards End, has started unpacking all of the Schlegels' belongings and laying them out in the house, even their books. At the mention of books, Margaret is in an uproar - some of them are Tibby's, and are valuable. She's justifiably upset at Miss Avery, who has no right to open up all of their things. Dolly thinks Miss Avery's just crazy, and says that she hates all of the Wilcoxes since Evie's wedding. Apparently, she bought Evie a wedding present that everyone thought was too expensive to accept, and when Evie returned it, she got terribly upset and threw it into the pond. Henry, apparently, knew about Miss Avery's battiness, but still wanted her to look after Howards End; he has infinite patience for people who are good at what they do. After asking Henry's permission, Margaret writes a note to Miss Avery, asking her not to touch any of her things. She goes to Howards End herself to sort out the unpacked books situation and store them elsewhere. Though Tibby promises to go, he unsurprisingly backs out in the end, leaving his sister to visit the house alone.

