“Why, Miss Caroline, what an unexpected pleasure!” said she, and if she had added “an unwelcome one,” I fancy she would have spoken the truth. “Dear, what was Cicely thinking of to put you in this cold room? Pray come up-stairs to the fire.”
“Thank you,” said I, and rose to follow her.
The room up-stairs was warm and comfortable, but Hatty was not there. A girl of about fourteen, in a loose blue sacque, which looked very cold for the weather, came forward and shook hands with me.
“My daughter,” said Mrs Crossland. “Annabella, my dear, run up and ask Miss Hester if she feels well enough to come down. Tell her that her sister is here.”
“Allow me to go up with Miss Annabella, and perhaps save her a journey,” said I. “Messages are apt to be returned and to make further errands.”
“Oh, but—pray do not give yourself that trouble,” said Miss Annabella, glancing at her mother.
“Certainly not. I cannot think of it,” answered Mrs Crossland, hastily. “Poor Miss Hester has been suffering so much from toothache—I beg you will not disturb her, Miss Caroline.”
I suppose I was rude: but how could I help it?
“Why should I disturb her more than Miss Crossland?” I replied. “Sisters do not make strangers of each other.”
“Oh, she does not expect you: and indeed, Miss Caroline,—do let me beg of you,—Dr Summerfield did just hint yesterday—just a hint, you understand,—about small-pox. I could not on any account let you go up, for your own sake.”