"Couldn't Millie or somebody else take care of Elfie? I should so like to be with you."
"Not this evening," I answered. She looked at me with such puzzled eyes, that I became conscious of something peculiar in my manner, and to soften the words, I added, "Better not ask it. They talked of another ramble before supper."
We have given up late dinner for the present, while Mr. Romilly is away.
"Isn't Elfie so well? Are you worried about her?"
"I don't think she is actually ill," I said. "She needs care."
"And you have told her about the telegram?"
"No. Why?"
"Oh, I thought—I didn't know, of course,—only, she was crying so, just before tea."
"I have said nothing. I hope the children have not let it out," I said.
"They wouldn't dare! If Maggie—" Thyrza paused. "But Elfie always frets, when she is poorly, and her faceache is so bad to-day. I dare say it is only that. I'll go to her now. Do get a walk. I am sure you have been too long indoors."