“Why isn’t Mr. Rochester here?” said the little girl at last.
“He could not stay,” replied Mrs. Ogilvie. “You and he are great friends, are you not, Sib?”
“He is nice, he is very nice,” said the child; “he and Lady Helen—oh, more than nice. I like ’em very much, don’t you, mother?”
“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Ogilvie got up. “Good-by, Sibyl, I shall be back late this evening.”
“Good-by, mother dear.”
Mrs. Ogilvie left the room. Miss Winstead, having finished her lunch, desired Sibyl to be quick with hers, and then to follow her to the schoolroom. There was no one in the room now but Sibyl and the footman, Watson. Watson began to remove the things. Sibyl played with a biscuit. Suddenly she looked full up at the young man.
“Are you tired after your ride this morning Watson?”
“No, Miss Sibyl, not at all.”
“I wonder if you’re awfully hungry, Watson?”