Fanny shrugged her shoulders.
“It is rather dismal to-day, however,” said Graeme. “You look cold with that light dress on, Fanny, why don’t you go and change it?”
“What is the use? I wish Arthur were coming home. He might have come, I’m sure.”
“You may be sure he will not stay longer than he can help,” said Graeme; turning to her letter again.
“And my dear, might you no’ take a seam? It would pass the time, if it did nothing else,” said Mrs Snow.
But the suggestion was not noticed, and partly because she did not wish to interfere, and partly because she had some curiosity to see how the little lady would get out of her discomfort, Mrs Snow knitted on in silence.
“Make something nice for tea,” suggested Rose, glancing over her shoulder.
“That is not necessary now,” said Fanny, shortly.
“Oh! I only suggested it for your sake—to pass the time,” said Rose.
It lasted a good while longer. It lasted till Graeme, catching Mrs Snow’s look, became suddenly aware that their old friend was thinking her own thoughts about “Mrs Arthur.” She rose at once, and shutting her desk, and going to the window where Fanny was standing, said with a shiver:—