Sibyl meanwhile was enjoying her tea.
“It’s nearly five o’clock,” she said, “father is sure to be in at six, don’t you think so, Miss Winstead?”
“He often doesn’t come home till seven,” answered Miss Winstead in a guilty voice, her hand shaking as she raised the teapot.
“Why, what’s the matter with you, Winnie dear,” said Sibyl—this was her pet name for the governess; “you have got a sort of palsy, you ought to see a doctor. I asked Nurse what palsy was, and she said ‘a shaking,’ and you are all shaking. How funny the teapot looks when your hand is bobbing so. Do, Winnie, let me pour out tea.”
“Not to-night. I was thinking that after tea you and I might go for a little walk.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, really, truly; I must wait in till father comes.”
“It is such a fine evening, that perhaps——”
“No, no, I don’t want to go.”
“But your mother has given me money; you are to buy anything you please at the toy-shop.”