"Office of Western Union Telegraph Co.,
New York, July 24th, 187-.
"To Mrs. I. M. Argenter, Dorbury, Mass.
"Mr. Argenter has had a sunstroke. Insensible. Very serious. Will telegraph again.
"Philip Burkmayer, M.D."
Sylvie's eyes, so roundly innocent, so star-like in their usual bright uplifting, were raised now with a wide terror in them, first to Rodney, then to Amy; and "O—O!" broke in short, subdued gasps from her lips.
Then they heard Mrs. Argenter's step up-stairs.
"What is the matter, Sylvie? What are you doing? Who is with you down there?" she said, over the baluster, from the hall above.
"O, mother!" cried Sylvie, "they aren't gone! Something has come! Go up and tell her, Amy, please!" And forgetting all about Amy as "Miss Sherrett," and all her fear of "nice girls," she dropped down on the lower step of the staircase after Amy had passed her upon her errand, put her face between her hands and caught her breath with frightened sobs.
Rodney, leaning against the newel post, looked down at her, and said, after the manner of men,—"Don't cry. It mayn't be very bad, after all. You'll hear again in an hour or two. Can't I do something? I'll go to the telegraph office. I'll get somebody for your mother. Whom shall I go for?"
"O, you are very kind. I don't know. Wait a minute. They didn't say any place! We ought to go right to New York, and we don't know where! O, dear!" She had lifted her head a little, just to say these broken sentences, and then it went down again.