Elvira was found ranging among the strawberries, with Mary and Kate looking on somewhat dissatisfied.
Both the poor girls looked constrained and unhappy, and Miss Ogilvie wondered whether “Cousin Lisette’s” evident intentions of becoming a fixture would be for their good or the reverse.
“Are you better, my dear?” asked she, affectionately.
“Yes, it was only the room,” said Elvira.
“You are a good deal there, are not you?” said Miss Ogilvie to Mary, who had the white flabby look of being kept in an unwholesome atmosphere.
“Yes,” said Mary, wistfully, “but grandpapa does not like having me half so much as Elvira. He is always talking about her.”
“You had better come back to him now, Elfie,” said Miss Ogilvie.
“It makes me ill,” said Elvira, with her crossest look.
Her governess laid her hand on her shoulder, and told her in a few decided words, in the lowest possible voice, that she was not going away till she had taken a properly respectful and affectionate leave of her grandfather. Whereupon she knew further resistance was of no use, and going hastily to the door of the room, called out—
“Good-bye, then, grandpapa.”