"I have not the least intention of coddling Elfie," I answered. "There is such a thing as necessary caution; and neither you nor I wish to have Elfie ill. I must request you all to say nothing about the telegram to her without my leave."
Maggie turned and walked a few paces, remarking, "Well, I suppose we may as well go on now. Where's Millie?"
Did she really not care—or not understand? Or was this only assumed indifference?
"She went indoors," Nona said.
"I will find Miss Millington, and ask her to join you out here," I said. "Elfie is asleep, and I would rather not have her roused."
"Millie can catch us up. Come along, girls," Denham said, with an air of forced cheerfulness. I could not but be glad to see how forced his cheerfulness was,—also how pale and serious Nona and the little ones looked. Thyrza held back and when asked to accompany them, she said, "No!" then vanished round the side of the house. Maggie alone showed no signs of being deeply stirred. And when I remember how that poor mother clings to Maggie—But if she were here, she would believe in Maggie still!
I returned then to the drawing-room. As I opened the door and entered, Miss Millington came hurrying across the room. I was struck with her flushed face and flurried manner. She did not look at me, and would have gone straight past, but I whispered—
"They are expecting you in the garden." She made no answer, and disappeared.
A glance revealed to me Elfie sleeping soundly still. I was thankful for that,—poor child. She had stirred and changed her position, but the coming and going had not roused her.
I sat down again at the side-table; and in one moment I knew that my papers had been meddled with. The consciousness came over me like a clap of thunder.