“Is it possible that Lady Lushington is here?”
“It seems so,” said the gentleman; “but we can soon ascertain, my dear, by looking at the visitors’ list.”
“I shall be exceedingly pleased if she is,” said Mrs Ogilvie, for it was she. “I have not seen Henrietta Lushington for two or three years. She used to be a great friend of mine. But what in the world is she doing with that girl?”
“Why should not Henrietta Lushington have a girl belonging to her party?” was Mr Ogilvie’s response. “There is nothing the matter with that fact, is there, Susan?”
“Oh, nothing; and I know she has a niece, but somehow I never thought that the niece would look like that girl.”
“Why, what in the world is the matter with her? I thought her quite pretty.”
“Oh, my dear Henry! Pretty perhaps, but not classy; not for a moment the style of girl that Lady Lushington’s niece would be expected to be. And then her paying for her own tea—it seemed to me slightly bad form. However, perhaps the girl does not belong to our Lady Lushington at all.”
Meanwhile Annie was doing a little business on her own account in the great hall. She had got possession of the visitors’ book, and was scanning the names of the visitors with intense interest. Nowhere did she see the name Ogilvie, and in consequence a great load was lifted from her heart. She ran up in high spirits to Mabel’s room.
“No fear, May; no fear,” she said, skipping about as she spoke. “Mrs Ogilvie is not here at all; I have looked through the list.”
“Well, that’s a comfort,” said Mabel, who was lying on her bed half-asleep before Annie came in. “But what a restless spirit you are, Annie! Can you ever keep still for a minute? I was certain you were asleep in your room.”