"Yes," said Aunt Faith again; but she said no more.
Sibyl closed the windows, replaced the chairs, and fastened the front-door; then, as she carelessly turned the leaves of a book on the table, she said at last, "Mr. Leslie was here, I believe?"
"Yes: he came to tell me that Margaret Brown and the children were safely established in the farm-house."
"Did he ask for me?" said Sibyl, as she extinguished the hall lamps.
"No, my dear," answered Aunt Faith, and Sibyl went to her room without another word.
Two days came and went, and Mr. Leslie did not appear.
"I say, you people!" said Tom, bursting into the dining-room at tea-time. "Did you know that Mr. Leslie was sick? Dangerously sick, Jim Morse says; not expected to live, I believe."
"Thomas!" said Aunt Faith with unusual severity, "what do you mean?
Tell the truth."
"Well, he's sick, any way; and Jim heard his mother say it was a dangerous fever. Hallo, Sibyl! what's the matter? How pale you are!"
"No more pale than the rest of us," interrupted Bessie, with a quick glance at Sibyl; "we all like Mr. Leslie, don't we?"