Just then there came the sound of a high-pitched and sweet voice in the kitchen outside.
“There is Sylvia,” said Jasper. “I am going to tell her now, and to bring her in.”
She went into the outside kitchen. Sylvia, in her shabbiest dress, with a pinched, cold look on her face, was standing by the embers of the fire.
“Oh Jasper,” she said eagerly, “I do not know what to make of my father to-night! He has evidently had bad news by the post to-day—something about his last investments. I never saw him so low or so irritable, and he was quite cross about the nice little hash you made for his supper. He says that he will cut down the fuel-supply, and that I am not to have big fires for cooking; and, worst of all, Jasper, he threatens to come into the kitchen to see for himself how I manage. Do you know, I feel quite frightened to-night. He is very strange in his manner, and suspicious; and he looks so cold, too. No fire will he allow in the sitting-room. He gets worse and worse.”
“Well, darling,” said Jasper as cheerfully as she could, “this is an old story, is it not? He did eat his hash, when all is said and done.”
“Yes; but I don’t like his manner. And you know he discovered about the boxes in the box-room.”
“That is over and done with too,” said Jasper. “He cannot say much about that; he can only puzzle and wonder, but it would take him a long time to find out the truth.”
“I don’t like his way,” repeated Sylvia.
“And perhaps you don’t like my way either, Sylvia,” said a strange voice; and Sylvia uttered a scream, for Evelyn stood before her.
“Evelyn!” cried the girl. “Where have you come from? Oh, what is the matter? Oh, I do declare my head is going round!”