Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily.
“You can’t coax me into upholding you with your soft, purring ways. I’m not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likely story!”
“No,” laughed Daisy; “but you are dear old Uncle John’s sister, and I could love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really was detained, though. Where’s Uncle John?”
“He’s gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had better stop at home––you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back.”
A sudden terror blanched Daisy’s face.
“When did he go, Aunt Seppy?” she asked, her heart throbbing so loudly she was sure Septima would hear it.
“An hour or more ago.”
Daisy hastily picked up her hat again.
“Where are you going?” demanded Septima, sharply.
“I––I––am going to meet Uncle John. Please don’t stop me,” she cried, darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that was stretched out to stay her mad flight. “I––I––must go!”