"Mrs. Milton has not seen Miss Mittie all the afternoon, ma'am."
"Then where has she been? Who has seen her?"
"Mrs. Milton was under the impression, ma'am, that Miss Mittie was with Miss Rivers."
"Under the impression! Why couldn't she make sure?" cried Mrs. Trevor indignantly. "She might have known better than to suppose anything of the sort. I have no doubt the poor child has been upstairs in one of those fireless rooms, catching her death of cold. Do, pray, find her at once, and send her here. I'm too chilly to stir."
Slade quitted the room with evident intent to obey, and she called after him, "No, you had better bring up the tea, and send somebody else to look, for we are half famished."
"If I had known when you would really arrive, I could have had the tea waiting," said Hermione.
"I told you as much as I knew myself. Slade might have had the tea-things here ready, at all events. But of course that was too much trouble for anybody to think of. I should have fancied that the child's existence might have been remembered by somebody."
Tea came in, and Hermione began to pour it out in silence. Slade put down the silver cake-basket in its right place, then said—
"Miss Mittie is not upstairs, ma'am."
"Not upstairs? But she must be?" exclaimed Mrs. Trevor, aghast. "Where else can she have gone?"