By that time they had reached the veranda, and as she spoke the last words, Miss Chase ran up the steps, humming a song, and entered the hall just as Margaret descended the stairs, after having exchanged her habit for a dress more suitable to the house.
"Are you better?" Sybil asked.
"Yes; but I was terribly frightened, though I would not have Mr. Laurence know it for the world—my timidity annoys him so much."
"He is coming," whispered Miss Chase.
"Please come and make the tea," said Margaret; "my hands shake yet."
Mr. Laurence joined them in the hall.
"Well, you are not frightened, now it is all over?" he asked.
"No, not much; anyway, I am unhurt."
Miss Chase threw back the hood of her cloak, and accompanied them into the library; a glance at the hall-glass had convinced her that her appearance was picturesque. She stood a second in the door, took off the pretty blue mantle and laid it on a sofa; the breeze had given her a color, and her hair an added wave, particularly becoming.
Margaret ensconced herself in an easy-chair near the fire, which had been kindled to give an appearance of comfort to the room, although the night was too warm to render it necessary. Miss Chase seated herself by the tray, while Laurence turned to Margaret: