“Well, yes; they have set me a conundrum—a mighty stiff one. It seems that Miss Betty Vivian has lost a parcel, and she be that fretted about it that she’s nigh to death, and the little uns have promised to get it back for her; and, poor children! they’ve set me on the job, and how ever I’m to do it I don’t know.”
“I think perhaps I can help you,” said Sibyl suddenly. “I’ll tell you this much, Farmer Miles. I can get that packet back, and I’d much rather get it back with your help than without it.”
“Shake hands on that, missie. I wouldn’t like to be, so to speak, in a thing, and then cast out o’ it again afore the right moment. But whatever do you mean?”
“You shall know all at the right time,” said Sibyl. “Mrs. Haddo is so unhappy about Betty that she wouldn’t allow any of the upper-school girls to have lessons to-day, so she sent them off to spend the day in London. I happened to be one of them, and was perfectly wretched at having to go; so while I was driving to the railway station in one of the wagonettes I made up my mind. I settled that whatever happened I’d never, never, never endure another night like the last; and I couldn’t go to London and see pictures or museums or whatever places we were to be taken to while Betty was lying at death’s door, and when I knew that it was possible for me to save her. So when we got to the station there was rather a confusion—that is, while the tickets were being bought—and I suddenly slipped away by myself and got outside the station, and ran, and ran, and ran—oh, so fast!—until at last I got quite beyond the town, and then I found myself in the country; and all the time I kept saying, and saying, ‘I will tell. She sha’n’t die; nothing else matters; Betty shall not die.’”
“Then what do you want me to help you for, missie?”
“Because,” said Sibyl, holding out her little hand, “I am very weak and you are very strong, and you will keep me up to it. Please do come with me straight back to the school!”
“Well, there’s a time for all things,” said the farmer; “and I’m willing to give up my arternoon’s work, but I’m by no means willing to give up my midday meal, for we farmers don’t work for nothing—as doubtless you know, missie. So, if you’ll come along o’ me and eat a morsel, we’ll set off afterwards, sure and direct, to Haddo Court; and I’ll keep you up to the mark if you’re likely to fail.”