“Oh, haven’t you heard?” exclaimed Sibyl. “She’s been quite ill.”
“No, I hadn’t,” said Nancy, considerately. “I’m so sorry. What has been the trouble?”
“Worry, chiefly, I guess,” and a sort of sigh seemed to accompany Sibyl’s words. “It was too bad she had such a dispute with her brother,” she continued, “and yet, they really didn’t seem to dispute, just to disagree, but they have both such old-fashioned, gentle natures that they consider it disgraceful to dissent from the views of loved ones. Oh, well!” this time the sigh was unmistakable, “I suppose even the most gentle can hardly expect to go through life without differences. I only hope they do not hold my daddy in any way responsible,” she said seriously.
“Why, how could they?” faltered Nancy, in honest bewilderment.
“Oh, of course they couldn’t,” replied Sibyl hastily, as if regretting her remark. “But you see, daddy and the old gentleman have been such close friends that Miss Townsend might fancy daddy influenced her brother. But I must be running along,” she added a little hurriedly. “I’m so glad to have met you, Nancy, and I hope your sale will be a tremendous success.”
“It surely will be,” chimed in Ruth, while Isabel and Nancy joined in the good-byes.
“Hasn’t she wonderful eyes!” was Nancy’s first remark following Sibyl’s departure.
“I got the surprise of my life,” declared Ruth, “when I saw Sibyl Sanders saunter in. There, that sounds like a new song, doesn’t it? But you know, girls, she is almost as mysterious as her dad, the way she comes and goes—”
“But doesn’t anyone up and ask them where they live?” asked Nancy in evident astonishment.
“Never get a chance,” chimed in Isabel. “If we were to go out now and follow her up the hill, I’ll venture to say we would get a good sample of the disappearing stunt—”