"But surely they—the detectives—will find him,"—Janet tried to console; "and anyhow Monday something is bound to happen."
"Yes, and worrying won't help, and it's unkind to you, poor darling,"—Phyllis smiled with determination. "How is the throat, and the head by this time?"
"Oh, loads better. I feel perfectly well; but it's such fun being an invalid. I told Annie to bring luncheon up here. Auntie Mogs is out and I waited for you."
"Angel, you must be starved to death, but here comes Annie now. I can hear her venerable boots creaking up the stairs."
Annie appeared with a tray, and Phyllis busied herself putting the table where Janet could reach it comfortably.
"Filet of sole and that nice sauce that Lucy knows I love; how nice." She sat down opposite Janet, and for the time being gave herself up to cheering her.
"Sally and Daphne are coming over to-morrow morning. They both sent their love and everybody was so, so sorry you were sick. I had to answer questions all morning. Even old Ducky Lucky said she hoped you'd be better, though I really think she has grave doubts as to whether I was not masquerading as you."
Janet laughed.
"I never thought I could miss school so much," she said, "but it has seemed ages since you left. Auntie Mogs has been an angel; she read to me all morning and only went out because I simply made her."
The afternoon wore on slowly. Phyllis did not go out, but insisted on reading aloud to Janet.