“Talking about Sybil,” interrupted Margot vehemently, “there’s one thing I’ve made up my mind to. I’m going to see that she has a decenter time. She can’t like chattering to Adela all day. Josy, let’s take her in hand; we’ll make her keen on hockey. We could easily do it; she’s as good and better at it than any of her dormer, and she’s only six months younger than me. I believe she’d be as keen as mustard in no time.”
“It’s the very thing!” Gretta was beginning, her eyes sparkling, just as nurse appeared at the dormitory door, looking remarkably brisk and business-like. “Gretta,” she announced, “you’re to go to Miss Slater’s study. No, don’t wait a moment. Go down at once!”
But it was Mrs. Fleming’s voice that called “Come in,” in answer to the girl’s timid knock, and Auntie Tib herself rose from a comfortable chair to greet her.
“Oh, auntie! How lovely! And on Sunday, too. Margot, though—shan’t I go and tell her that you’re here?”
“No, dear; it’s you I’ve come to see this time, and for two reasons. Miss Slater has kindly given me the use of her room. You got my message, didn’t you, in Margot’s letter?”
“Oh, yes.” Something in her aunt’s manner caused Gretta to feel uneasy. “What is it, auntie?” she ventured. “It’s nothing that I’ve done, is it?”
“Darling, no. But it’s rather difficult to tell.” Mrs. Fleming cleared her throat, while Gretta waited in suspense; then came the deluge!
“Gretta, I’ve something to tell you. You know how delighted I was when your father allowed us the great pleasure of sending you and Sybil to school with Margot?”
“Yes?” Gretta’s tone sounded as bewildered as she felt.
“Well, dear, to cut a long story short, things have happened that we in no way expected. Uncle Bob is not the rich man that he was. I needn’t trouble you with details, child, but we are just now in rather a difficult position.”