"Not killed at the time," contradicted Miss Dolling; "he died days afterwards."
"It was the panther's doing all the same," argued Mrs. Taylor, "and to think of Laurence Travers making no provision for his girl,—I call it downright wicked, leaving her entirely dependent on his dear, good, golden-hearted sister."
At this moment, there was a sound of violent commotion, and deafening barking on the stairs. The Pom who left the room in close attendance on cream, and savoury sandwiches, had undoubtedly encountered a stranger. Miss Dolling looked hastily out of the window and said:
"Yes—she has arrived! a four-wheeler, and several large boxes."
Further information was postponed, as the door opened, and Galpin announced "Miss Travers." Enter, a thin, woebegone girl, with reddish hair: dressed in a crumpled black muslin, and carrying a waterproof on her arm.
Half way to the window, she paused for a moment, endeavouring to discover which of these three women might be her aunt? Was it the big one with the shiny red face, the thin one with the tortoise-shell pince-nez,—that gave her such an owl-like expression,—or the little fat one in pale blue chiffon? Evidently the latter, for she struggled out of her arm-chair, and offered a podgy hand blazing with diamonds.
"How do you do—no!" drawing back. "No, no, please don't kiss me!—I'm dreadfully afraid of microbes. My health, as you know, is so uncertain, and I have to be very cautious. We have been expecting you for the last half hour. What has kept you?"
"I believe the train was late," replied Nancy in a meek voice. Could this little cross fat woman, be Daddy's sister?
"Oh, was it? Have you paid the cab?"
"Yes."