Miss Gibbins sighed. “She’ll never be so amiable as her dear mother,” she said.—“Why!” suddenly changing her tone to one of surprise, “isn’t that Mr Oswald?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Mrs Winn, gazing after the spring-cart which had passed them rapidly. “What then?”
“He had a child with him,” said Miss Gibbins impressively. “A child with fair hair, like Prissy Goodwin’s, and they came from the station. Something tells me it was Prissy’s daughter.”
“Nonsense, Julia,” replied Mrs Winn; “she’s not expected till to-morrow. Mrs Forrest told Mrs Hunt so herself. Besides, how should Mr Oswald have anything to do with meeting her? That was his own little girl with him, I daresay.”
“Daisy Oswald has close-cropped, black hair,” replied Miss Gibbins, quite unshaken in her opinion. “This child was older, and her hair shone like gold. I feel sure it was Prissy’s daughter.”
Chapter Three.
Waverley.
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.
Milton.