“Yes, dear,” replied Miss Winstead. She left the room and went downstairs. As she entered the central hall she suddenly found herself listening to an animated conversation.
“Now, my good people,” said Mrs. Ogilvie’s voice, raised high and clear, “you will be kind enough to return to town immediately. The child is ill, but we hope soon to have her better. See her, did you say, my good woman? Certainly not. I shall be pleased to offer you refreshment if you will go round to the housekeeper’s entrance, but you must take the next train to town, you cannot see the child.”
“If you please, Mrs. Ogilvie,” here interrupted Miss Winstead, coming forward. “Sibyl noticed Mr. and Mrs. Holman as they walked down the avenue, and is very much pleased and delighted at their coming to see her, and wants to know if they may come up at once and have a talk with her?”
“Dear me!” cried Mrs. Ogilvie; “I really must give the child another bedroom, this sort of thing is so bad for her. It is small wonder the darling does not get back her health—the dreadful way in which she is over-excited and injudiciously treated. Really, my good folks, I wish you would go back to town and not make mischief.”
“But if the little lady wishes?” began Mrs. Holman, in a timid voice, tears trembling on her eyelids.
“Sibyl certainly does wish to see you,” said Miss Winstead in a grave voice. “I think, Mrs. Ogilvie,” she added, “it would be a pity to refuse her. I happen to know Mr. and Mrs. Holman pretty well, and I do not think they will injure dear little Sibyl. If you will both promise to come upstairs quietly,” continued Miss Winstead, “and not express sorrow when you see her, for she is much changed, and will endeavor to speak cheerfully, you will do her good, not harm.”
“Oh, yes, we’ll speak cheerfully,” said Holman; “we know the ways of dear little Miss. If so be that she would see us, it would be a great gratification, Madam, and we will give you our word that we will not injure your little daughter.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Ogilvie, waving her hand, “My opinion is never taken in this house, nor my wishes consulted. I pass the responsibility on to you, Miss Winstead. When the child’s father returns and finds that you have acted as you have done you will have to answer to him. I wash my hands of the matter.”
Mrs. Ogilvie went out on to the lawn.
“The day is improving,” she thought. She glanced up at the sky. “It certainly is miserable at home, and every one talks nonsense about Sibyl. I shall really take a drive and go and see the Le Stranges. I cannot stand the gloom of the house. The dear child is getting better fast, there is not the least doubt of it, and why Phil should talk as he does, and in particular why he should speak as if we were paupers, is past bearing. Lose Silverbel! I certainly will not submit to that.”