Miss Greta tightened her lip as she went on toward her room. She looked through plump Grindley as if he'd been thin air. Nan was flying up, two steps at a time, with a sheaf of telegraph forms.
Not far behind, Wildfire came flaming. "Father wants to see you, Mr. Gavan," she said.
Sir William was at the house telephone. "Yes, yes, my dear. No fuss, no foolishness, no publicity. The very fact of our allowing Madge to see her off—I thought it a horrible idea at first, but don't you see the value of it? Oh, here's Gavan. I'll come to you in a minute."
He hung up the receiver. "Look here, Gavan, the really important thing is that the silly newspapers shouldn't get hold of this. We are sending Madge up with an old servant to see the woman off. It will quiet any misgivings in the child's mind, a thing my wife is painfully exercised about. There's no doubt it would be a dreadful shock to Meggy; and besides, the great thing is, it will choke off the suspicions of any nosing, ferreting little penny-a-liner. At least, it would if—my dear boy, there isn't any one else I would ask such a thing of, but do you think you could—would you—"
The strangeness of that leave-taking!
Miss Greta was the first to come down, calm, carefully dressed in demi-deuil, as one too fearful of the death of her father to have heart for her usual pinks and apple-greens, yet showing the front befitting the daughter of a soldier. She seemed not to notice Grindley coming slowly down behind her, nor Singleton and Napier talking together on the steps. She occupied herself with her gloves as she waited till the men-servants passed her on their way back after hoisting a wardrobe-trunk and a hat-box on top of the service-motor.
"That American box, I am afraid it was very heavy." Miss Greta smiled as she dispensed her douceurs with the demeanor Napier could have sworn Miss Greta herself took to be suitable to the daughter of a German officer. It was, at all events, the demeanor popularly supposed to be the hallmark of the duchess.
"I hope," she said, advancing to the door and speaking to Singleton, "I hope you won't mind waiting a moment for Miss McIntyre. Sir William insists on sending his daughter along to look after me."
"Sir William should have more faith in us," returned Singleton, with his agreeable smile. "We have already telegraphed to Cannon Street."