“In a minute, darling—in a minute.”
“And how are you getting on with Sylvia, Jasper?”
“Oh, such fun, dear! I am having quite an exciting time—hidden from the old gentleman, and acting the gipsy, and pretending I am feeding him with old fowls when I am giving him the tenderest chicken. You have not, darling, a little scrap of money to spare that you can help old Jasper with?”
“Oh! you are so greedy, Jasper; you are always asking for things. Uncle Edward makes me an allowance, but not much; no one would suppose I was the heiress of everything.”
“Well dear, the money don’t matter. I will come here again to-morrow night. Now, keep up your pecker, little Eve, and all will be well.”
Evelyn kissed Jasper, and was about to run back to the house when the good woman remembered the light shoes in which she had come out.
“I’ll carry you back,” she said. “Those precious little feet shall not touch the frosty ground.”
Jasper was very strong, and Evelyn was all too willing. She was carried to within fifty yards of the side entrance in Jasper’s strong arms; then she dashed back to the house, kissed her hand to the dark shadow under a tree, and returned to her own room. Read had seen her, but Evelyn knew nothing of that. Read had had her suspicions before now, and determined, as she said, to keep a sharp lookout on young miss in future.
CHAPTER XXIII.—ONE WEEK OF GRACE.
There never was a woman more distressed and puzzled than Miss Henderson. She consulted with her sister, Miss Lucy; she consulted with her favorite teacher, Miss Thompson. They talked into the small hours of the night, and finally it was resolved that Evelyn should have another chance.