“Cook made these for Miss Sibyl,” she said. “Does she know yet, Miss Winstead, that the master has gone?”
“No,” said Miss Winstead; “and I have got to tell her, Anne, and it is a task I anything but like.”
“I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a deal, Miss,” replied Anne, in a sympathetic voice.
Just then a light, childish step was heard in the passage, and Sibyl burst into the room.
“Here I am. Oh, I am so glad tea is ready. What’s the hour, please, Miss Winstead? How are you, Anne; is your toothache better?”
“I have not had any toothache to mention since you left, Miss Sibyl.”
“I am glad to hear that. You used to suffer awful pain, didn’t you? Did you go to Mr. Robbs, the dentist, and did he put your head between his knees and tug and tug to get the tooth out? That’s the way Nurse’s teeth were taken out when she was a little girl. She told me all about it. Did Mr. Robbs pull your tooth out that way, Anne?”
“No, Miss, the tooth is better and in my head, I’m thankful to say.”
“And how is cook? How are her sneezing fits?”