IVY. No, Mrs. Strangway; but I hoped yu'd be comin' soon.
BEATRICE. Ah! Yes. Is Mr. Strangway in?
IVY. [Hypnotized by those faintly smiling lips] Yes—oh, yes! He's writin' his sermon in the little room. He will be glad!
BEATRICE. [Going a little closer, and never taking her eyes off the child] Yes. Now, Ivy; will you do something for me?
IVY. [Fluttering] Oh, yes, Mrs. Strangway.
BEATRICE. Quite sure?
IVY. Oh, yes!
BEATRICE. Are you old enough to keep a secret?
IVY. [Nodding] I'm fourteen now.
BEATRICE. Well, then—, I don't want anybody but Mr. Strangway to know I've been here; nobody, not even your mother. D'you understand?