The Children of Wilton Chase

by L. T. Meade

Lucy trotted off.

"Was I right in hearing you say, Maggie, that Miss Nelson was ill?"

"Not exactly ill, father, but she's fretting."

"Fretting? What about?"

Marjorie edged up to her father in the confidential way which made people take to her at once.

"It's her little sister's picture," she said. "A miniature, and it's—it's lost. It—it can't be found."

"I never knew Miss Nelson had a sister."

"Oh, yes; only she's dead—a dear little girl—she died a long time ago, and Miss Nelson is very fond of her miniature, and it's—it's lost!"

Just at this moment the groom appeared, leading Mr. Wilton's spirited bay mare.

"What a tragic face, Maggie," said her father, chucking her under the chin. "We must only trust that the picture is mislaid, not lost. Now, good-by, my dear, I am off to Quarchester."