“I beg your pardon,” he said; “I came to see Mrs. Brownlow.”
“My aunt. She will be here in a moment. Will you run and call her, Lina?”
“You may tell her Cecil Evelyn is here,” said he; “but there is no hurry,” he added, seeing that the child clung to her protector, too shy even to move. “You are John Brownlow’s little sister, eh?” he added, bending towards her; but as she crept round in terror, still clinging, he addressed the elder one: “I am so glad; I thought I had rushed into a strange house, and should have to beat a retreat.”
The young lady gave a little shy laugh which made her sweet oval glowing face and soft brown eyes light up charmingly, and there was a fresh graceful roundness of outline about her tall slender figure, as she stood holding the shy child, which made her a wondrously pleasant sight. “Are you staying here?” he asked.
“Yes; we came for advice for my little sister, who is not strong.”
“I’m so glad. I mean I hope there is only enough amiss to make you stay a long time. Were you ever in town before?”
“Only for a few hours on our way to school.”
Here a voice reached them—
“Fee, fa, fum,
I smell the breath of geranium.”
And through the back drawing-room door came Babie, in walking attire, declaiming—