“Why so, Miss?”
“Because it’s time for the servants’ dinner.”
“Well, Miss, I’m going down to the hall presently, when I shall have my appetite satisfied, thank you all the same for inquiring.”
Watson greatly enjoyed having a private chat with Sibyl.
“You couldn’t, p’waps,” said the little girl, knitting her brows, “you couldn’t, p’waps, come a short way down the street with me afore you begin your dinner?”
“Where do you want to go, Miss?”
“I want to see Mr. Holman; you know Mr. Holman, don’t you, Watson? He is the dear, kind, nice, sorrowful man who keeps the dusty toys.”
“I have heard of him from you, Miss.”
“It’s most ’portant that I should see him and his wife, and if you walked behind me, mother would not be very angry. Would you come, Watson? You might just put on your hat and come at once. I have not taken off my hat and coat. We can do it and be back afore Miss Winstead finds out.”
Watson looked out of the window. He saw Mrs Ogilvie at that moment go down the steps, closing the door behind her. She walked away in the direction of the nearest railway station. She held a dainty parasol over her head. He turned to where the eager little face of Sibyl was watching him.