In the end it was left to the unfortunate Pikey to break the silence.
“Himself!” she gasped. Putting her hands before her eyes she began to shake miserably.
It needed only this show of impotence to re-awaken Girlie’s latent hysteria. Tears began to flow down her white cheeks once again. A longing to kill her came upon the Werewolf.
In a little while, however, Girlie grew calmer. She was able to make a supreme effort for self-control. And, caught in the toils if ever human creature was, she was even nerved to a little constructive thinking.
“L-Lady Elfreda m-must know at once.”
Pikey remained mute and rigid as a stone.
“You m-must go to her and tell her that her f-father is c-coming.”
Far from Pikey’s intention though it might be to accept dictation from Miss No-Class she could yet judge that the proposal was not lacking in practical wisdom. Still she did not relish turning out on a winter’s evening on such an errand. But desperate diseases call for desperate remedies. After all, it was the only thing to be done. Elfreda was the key of the situation. And the sooner Elfreda understood what the situation now was the better for all concerned.
Finally, and with great reluctance, Pikey consented to set out for The Laurels immediately. She was really persuaded to do so less by the forlorn entreaties of the Deputy than by the hard logic of events. Weakly and foolishly false to her trust, Pikey felt that she had perhaps stronger reason than any one else to fear the coming of Himself.