“I don’t think so, Freda. By the way, have you heard that your little friend Sibyl has met with an accident?”
“Has she?” replied Freda. “I am very sorry. I like Sibyl very much.”
“So do I!” said Gus, coming up, “she’s the best sort of girl I ever came across, not like an ordinary girl—quite plucky, you know. What sort of accident did she have, father?”
“I don’t know; I am going to see. I am afraid it has something to do with the pony I gave her. Well, good-by, youngsters; if I don’t return by the last train to-night, I’ll be back early to-morrow, and we can have our drive then.”
Lord Grayleigh drove at once to Victoria Station, and took the next train to Richmond. It was a two-mile drive from there to Silverbel. He arrived at Silverbel between five and six in the afternoon. Mrs. Ogilvie was pacing about her garden, talking to two ladies who had come to call on her. When she saw Lord Grayleigh driving up the avenue, she uttered a cry of delight, apologized to her friends, and ran to meet him—both her hands extended.
“How good of you, how more than good of you,” she said. “This is just what I might have expected from you, Lord Grayleigh. You received my letter and you have come to answer it in person.”
“I have come, as you say, to answer it in person. How is Sibyl?”
“Oh, better. I mean she is about the same, but she really is going on very nicely. She does not suffer the slightest pain, and——”
“Can I see her?”