“Good-bye!”
The Major clapped on his hat.
“Come along!” he said brusquely.
Boy looked round,—at the ceiling, at the walls, and finally at Miss Letty.
“Good-bye!” he said again.
“Good-bye, dear Boy!”
The door opened—closed,—he was gone,—following the Major, who, in somewhat irritated haste, led the way.
When the echo of their footsteps had passed through the outer passage and sunk into silence, Miss Letty sat quietly down in her arm-chair again. Half mechanically she fingered the old Irish point lace at her neck, and looked at the soft silken folds of her ‘best’ gown that swept the floor. After all, she need not have been so particular about her dress! Boy had not noticed her appearance with any visible amount of affectionate liking or observation!
Still slowly and musingly she played with her delicate lace and sighed almost unconsciously, till Violet, after sympathetically watching her for a few minutes, could bear it no longer.
“My own Miss Letty!” she said fondly, going up to her chair and kneeling down beside it,—“you are tired?”