"I sent a telegram to her to expect me; it is so bad for sick children to be kept waiting."
"So it seems. Yes, Susan, tell the cab to wait."
Susan left the room, and heavy tears gathered in Hilda's eyes.
"Can I send another telegram?" she asked weakly.
"I don't believe you can, the telegraph office will be closed at Little Staunton. Never mind, Hilda, you had better go; I am disappointed, annoyed, of course, but what of that? What is a husband to a sick sister? Go, my dear, or you will miss your train!"
"No, I won't go," said Hilda; "you have made it impossible for me to go. I'll stay and entertain your guest, and Judy will suffer. Yes; don't kiss me just now, Jasper; I think you are cruel, but I'll stay."
Hilda went over to the bell and rang it.
Susan answered the summons.
"Give the cabman this shilling," said Mrs. Quentyns, "and tell him that he is not required."
"You have done quite right, my love," said Quentyns, "and when you have got over your first little feeling of annoyance you will see the matter in the same light that I do. I'll telegraph to Little Staunton early in the morning to tell them to expect us by the 11.35 train. Of course Judy would have been asleep hours before you reached her to-night, so it does not really matter in the least. Now come upstairs and put on your very prettiest dress, that soft pink chiffon, in which you look as like a rosebud as a living woman can. I have capital news for you, Hilda, my love; Rivers certainly is a brick; he has got me to act as counsel in——"