"She says she is so lonesome, sir, and sent me to tell you so."
"Is there a minute of my life that she is not sending for me—expecting me to be at her beck and call?" he said. "I am going out into the conservatory to get some flowers for Miss Vincent. I guess it won't hurt Dorothy to wait a little while, will it?"
"Is that what I shall tell her?" asked the girl, quietly.
"Tell her whatever you like," he said to the girl, hurrying on and leaving her standing there with a very white, sorrowful face.
Slowly she walked back to the breakfast-room, her heart burning with indignation. Dorothy met her eagerly.
"Are they coming?" she asked.
"Very soon now, miss," replied Katy.
"What delayed them?"
"I—I think they were getting a cup of tea for the strange young lady, miss. You know she came quite a long way, and she must be very tired."
"Why, that is very true," said Dorothy. "I wonder that I never thought of that before. It seemed as though I was not missed," and a sigh trembled over the girl's pale lips as she spoke.