“Don’t send detailed account until you hear from me again, on any account whatever. Don’t take any notice of this telegram, but wait until you hear.
“Anne Dodd.”
The telegram had been sent off; it was clicking away, indeed, on the little machine when Anne came flop up against her father, who was entering the post-office.
“Whither away, girlie?” he said, when he saw Anne.
“Oh, I was sending a message, daddy, to a friend.”
“Well, child, you needn’t get so red about it. I’m sure I’m the last to pry into your confidences. But don’t stay out too long, girlie, because I want you back again. Now let me put you in the car.”
He tucked her in, looking at her with pride. Really, she would be good-looking; she would be quite handsome with that colour in her face. But how very red she had got! Dear, dear, were his girls going to be afraid of him? That would be very unpleasant, the very last thing he would wish; he wanted them to adore him. Didn’t he think of them morning, noon, and night? Weren’t all his thoughts brimful of them, and yet his girl Anne had got scarlet, just as though she were afraid of him. It was too absurd; but, of course, she could not have been really afraid.
“It’s a very handsome motor,” he said, as he watched it out of sight. “I only wish I were going to Preston Manor—but there! of course, the girls will go where their old dad and the dear old mums can’t go. It’s the way of the world—the way of the world! I’m very pleased—very pleased with them on the whole, very, very pleased, and I thank the Almighty God for His great blessings. I’ve got a nice pair of girls. I’d have liked a boy, too, but it wasn’t the will of Providence to give me one, and girls get into less mischief—that’s what she says, dear old wife! Oh dear, oh dear, if they’re as handsome as she is, I’ll be satisfied, and I’ve every reason to imagine that they will be.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE GIRLS AT PRESTON MANOR.
The Wyndhams were out in the grounds when Anne Dodd’s handsome motor-car was seen whirling down the avenue.