She must have heard the latter part of the conversation, but without apparently understanding it; for she came forward blushing and smiling, as usual, and took her seat beside Beatrix Pendleton.
The conversation concerning Sybil ceased then. Some one started the subject of the Christmas sermon, and they talked of that until dinner was announced.
It was a much happier feast than Lyon Berners had ventured to hope for. They sat long at table. After they withdrew to the drawing-room, Mr. Berners sat the two Pendletons and the two Sheridans down to a rubber of whist, and then excused himself to them, and went out in search of Miss Tabitha Winterose.
He found that faithful creature in the housekeeper's room, sitting at a little table, drinking tea and dropping tears.
"What is the matter, Miss Tabby?" he inquired cheerfully.
"What is the matter!" she repeated, reproachfully. "Is it what is the matter you ask me, Mr. Berners; you? An't this Christmas-day the first Christmas-day since ever she was born, as she hasn't passed here? And to see how you all went on at dinner, eating and drinking and laughing and talking as if she wasn't lost and gone!"
"Now, Miss Tabby, you know well enough that Mrs. Berners is quite safe."
Miss Tabby started, spilt her tea, nearly dropped her cup, and—gazed at him in consternation.
"I know that you know she is safe," repeated Mr. Berners.
"I don't know nothink of the sort! How should I? And neither do you. How should you indeed, when even I don't?" said Miss Tabby, defiantly.