“Oh, don’t laugh, Miss West,” Una cried passionately. “Father feels dreadful about it.”
“I think you’re mistaken, dear,” said Rosemary.
“I’m not. I’m sure I’m not. Oh, Miss West, father was going to whip Carl yesterday—Carl had been naughty—and father couldn’t do it because you see he had no practice in whipping. So when Carl came out and told us father felt so bad, I slipped into the study to see if I could help him—he likes me to comfort him, Miss West—and he didn’t hear me come in and I heard what he was saying. I’ll tell you, Miss West, if you’ll let me whisper it in your ear.”
Una whispered earnestly. Rosemary’s face turned crimson. So John Meredith still cared. He hadn’t changed his mind. And he must care intensely if he had said that—care more than she had ever supposed he did. She sat still for a moment, stroking Una’s hair. Then she said,
“Will you take a little letter from me to your father, Una?”
“Oh, are you going to marry him, Miss West?” asked Una eagerly.
“Perhaps—if he really wants me to,” said Rosemary, blushing again.
“I’m glad—I’m glad,” said Una bravely. Then she looked up, with quivering lips. “Oh, Miss West, you won’t turn father against us—you won’t make him hate us, will you?” she said beseechingly.
Rosemary stared again.
“Una Meredith! Do you think I would do such a thing? Whatever put such an idea into your head?”