“All alone?” he asked, stooping to kiss her. “Where’s the boy?”
“In the office. Miss Lancaster is upstairs. She seems rather upset.”
“That so? Poor little woman! I’ll go up and have a look at her. She wants stroking a bit, I reckon. Can you wait any longer, little girl, or are you aching to get home? I’d like just to have a word with the boy, if he’ll see me.”
“Yes—do. I don’t mind how long I wait.”
“I’ll get Miss Lancaster down to keep you company.” He stopped, his foot on the first stair, lowering his voice. “Does the boy look bad, Dandy Anne?”
She nodded.
“I doubt he’ll take it terribly hard—worse than anybody else would have done. He didn’t say anything to you, I suppose?”
“No. Nothing.” (And, verily—nothing!)
“You look a bit white, dearie. Getting tired, are you?” He came back to her. “Didn’t you say a word to him, Dandy Anne? Didn’t you try to comfort the poor lad?”
She smiled bravely.