CHAPTER XIII
PRISCILLA PAYS A CALL AND TAKES A JOURNEY
BY this time Priscilla was so much better she was able to go for short walks and, best of all, for drives with her father. She loved these better than anything, for she had her father all to herself, and it was delightful to sit propped up with cushions, and with no strap around her to keep her from falling out, and so to drive Betsy up the hills, for she could manage that with her one hand, while her father read to her.
One day they drove to Lady Carey’s house. Priscilla did not like that very well, for she had not seen Lady Carey since that dreadful day when she had caught her sweeping the drawing-room. But Lady Carey was not very well, and Dr. Carlyon had been sent for, and as she had been very kind to Geoffrey and Priscilla while they were ill, and had sent them fruit and flowers and picture-papers, he thought Priscilla should go herself and thank her for her kindness, if Lady Carey was well enough to see her.
Lady Carey was well enough, and after the doctor had paid his visit, he came out to the carriage for Priscilla, who had been sitting there feeling very nervous all the time, and half hoping, though she would not have liked any one to know it, that Lady Carey would decide that she felt too unwell and too tired to see visitors.
She looked as grave and nervous as she felt when her father lifted her down from the dog-cart, and straightened her hat and her frock, and led her through the big, cool, flower-scented hall to the pretty, shady room where Lady Carey sat in her big chair by the open window looking out on the flower-garden.
“Priscilla has come to thank you for all your kindness to her, and to say good-bye before going to Porthcallis,” said the doctor; and Priscilla walked sedately up to the pretty invalid, shook hands, and, after only a second’s nervous hesitation, put up her face to kiss her.
Lady Carey returned the kiss very heartily, and pulling a little low chair close to her, told Priscilla to sit on it.
Priscilla did so gladly; it was such a charming little chair, with gilt legs and back and a cushioned seat of a delicate grey silk with roses worked all over it.
“Oh, how pretty—” she began, then stopped abruptly as she remembered Nurse’s directions that it is not polite to remark on what one sees, and at the same moment she noticed that her father had gone away and left her alone with her hostess.