“Dear, dear, dear! seems to me, somehow, that Haddo Court and Stoke Farm are going to have a right good connection. I don’t complain o’ the butter, and the bread, and the cheese, and the eggs, and the fowls as we sarve to the school; but I never counted on the young ladies taking their abode in my quarters.”
“What do you mean, and who are you?” said Sibyl in great amazement.
“My name, miss, is Farmer Miles; and this house”—he pointed to his dwelling—“is my homestead; and there are two young ladies belonging to your school lying fast asleep at the present moment in my wife’s kitchen, and they has given me a problem to think out. It’s a mighty stiff one, but it means life or death; so of course I have, so to speak, my knife in it, and I’ll get the kernel out afore I’m many hours older.”
Sibyl, who had been very miserable before she started, who had endured her drive with what patience she could, and whose heart was burning with hatred to Fanny and passionate, despairing love for Betty Vivian, was so exhausted now that she very nearly fainted.
The farmer looked at her out of his shrewd eyes. “Being a member o’ the school, Miss Ray,” he said, “you doubtless are acquainted with them particularly charming young ladies, the Misses Vivian?”
“Indeed I know them all, and love them all,” said Sibyl.
“Now, that’s good hearing; for they be a pretty lot, that they be. And as to the elder, I never see’d a face like hers—so wonderful, and with such a light about it; and her courage—bless you, miss! the dogs wouldn’t harm her. It was fawning on her, and licking her hand, and petting her they were. Is it true, miss, that Miss Betty is so mighty bad?”
“It is true,” said Sibyl; “and I wonder——Oh; please don’t leave me standing here alone on the road. I am so miserable and frightened! I wonder if it’s Sylvia and Hester who are in your house?”
“Yes, they be the missies, and dear little things they be.”
“And have they told you anything?” asked Sibyl.