“Her father,” suggested Mr Snow.
“He has seen her. He was there for hours, both yesterday and to-day. But he is asleep now, and he has need of rest. I canna disturb him.”
“Couldn’t you kind of make her think she was needed—to her father or the little ones? She would rouse herself if they needed her.”
“That’s weel said,” said Mrs Snow, gratefully. “Go you down the brae for the bairns, and I’ll go and speak to her again.”
“Miss Graeme, my dear,” said she, softly; “could you speak to me a minute?”
Her manner was quite calm. It was so like the manner in which Graeme had been hundreds of times summoned to discuss domestic matters, that without seeming to realise that there was anything peculiar in the time or circumstances, she opened her eyes and said, quietly,—
“Well, what is it, Janet?”
“My dear, it is the bairns. There is nothing the matter with them,” added she hastily, as Graeme started. “They have been down the brae with Emily all the day, but they are coming home now; and, my dear, they havena been ben yonder, and I think they should see her before—before she’s moved, and I dinna like to disturb your father. My bairn, are you able to rise and take Will and wee Rosie ben yonder.”
Graeme raised herself slowly up.
“Janet, I have been forgetting the bairns.”