“Sibyl is talking the wildest nonsense,” said Fanny. “How can you possibly believe her? I know nothing about Betty Vivian or her concerns.”
“Perhaps, miss,” said the farmer, coming forward at that moment, “that pointed thing sticking out o’ your pocket might have something to do with it. You will permit me, miss, seeing that the young lady’s life is trembling in the balance.”
Before either Mrs. Haddo or Fanny could utter a word Farmer Miles had strode across the room, thrust his big, rough hand into Fanny’s neat little pocket, and taken out the brown paper-packet.
“There, now,” he said, “that’s the kernel of the nut. I thought I’d do it somehow. Thank you kindly, ma’am, for listening to me. Miss Sibyl Ray, you may be poor in the future, but at least you’ll have a light heart; and as to the dirty trick you did, I guess you won’t do a second, for you have learned your lesson. I’ll be wishing you good-morning now, ma’am,” he added, turning to Mrs. Haddo, “for I must get back to my work. It’s twelve pounds o’ butter the cook wants sent up without fail to-night, ma’am; and I’m much obliged for the order.”
The farmer left the room. Fanny had flung herself on a chair and covered her face with her hands. Sibyl stood motionless, awaiting Mrs. Haddo’s verdict.
Once again Mrs. Haddo rang the bell. “Send Miss Symes to me,” she said.
Miss Symes appeared.
“The doctor’s last opinion, please, Miss Symes?”
“Dr. Ashley says that Betty is much the same. The question now is how to keep up her strength. He thinks it better to have two specialists from London, as, if she continues in such intense excitement, further complications may arise.”
“Do you know where Betty’s sisters are?” was Mrs. Haddo’s next inquiry.