“What about Nesta?” asked Pen.
“She cannot be found. Since early this morning no one has seen her. They are searching for her everywhere, and are making inquiries, but no one knows anything about her. Mrs Aldworth hasn’t been told exactly what has happened, but she particularly misses Nesta, and dear Marcia will not be able to come to me unless Nesta turns up. Do you know anything about her?”
“No,” said Pen, a little wearily. She was not deeply interested in Nesta, nor particularly interested in Mrs Aldworth.
“I half hoped you might, or some of you. You were so kind to the Aldworths when they were in such trouble about their mother.”
“No, I wasn’t kind,” said Pen abruptly, “I didn’t like them.”
Angela did not smile; she looked grave.
“Still, I don’t know why you came here?” was Pen’s next remark.
“Your sister wanted me to come; she invited me, and I thought I would come to see her. Is she at home?”
“I’m the only one at home. They have all gone to Whitby to have a spree. I didn’t want to go.”
“But why? You are the youngest, are you not?”