“You certainly may; I should like to have you.—Johnson, get down and open the carriage door for Miss Leeson.—But, oh, my dear, what is to be done with the dog?”
“Pilot will go home if I speak to him,” said Sylvia.—“Come here, Pilot.”
The mastiff strode slowly up.
“Go home, dear,” said Sylvia. “Go, and knock as you know how at the gates, and father will let you in. Be quick, dear dog; go at once.”
Pilot put on a shrewd and wonderfully knowing expression, cocked one ear a little, wagged his tail a trifle, glanced at Lady Frances, seemed on the whole to approve of her, and then turning on his heel, trotted off in the direction of The Priory.
“What a wonderfully intelligent dog, and how you have trained him!” said Lady Frances.
“Yes; he is almost human,” replied Sylvia. “How nice this is!” she continued as the carriage began to roll smoothly away. She leant back against her comfortable cushions.
“But you will soon be cold, my dear, in that very thin jacket,” said Lady Frances. “Let me wrap this warm fur cloak round you. Oh, yes, I insist; it would never do for you to catch cold while driving with me.”
Sylvia submitted to the warm and comforting touch of the fur, and the smile on her young face grew brighter than ever.
“And now you must tell me all about yourself,” said Lady Frances. “Do you know, I am quite curious about you—a girl like you living such a strange and lonely life!”