“I don’t know exactly, ma’m; they are some kin of Dr. Barrows over at the seminary I believe.”
This was more than she could stand. Telling herself that such excitement must be bad for Walter she swept back to the library. The last notes of music had died away, and Caro heard the rustle of her dress and turned.
Miss Elizabeth had thrown back her fur collar, in her face was an unusual glow, she was very handsome Caro thought.
The eyes of the others followed hers, and for a few seconds they all gazed at the lady in silence. Then Walter found his voice:
“Why Elizabeth! I did not expect you so early,” he exclaimed.
“I found I could get off sooner than I thought when I telegraphed. I fear you are tiring yourself,” she added coming to his side and bending over him, entirely ignoring the children.
Caro rose; “I ’spect we’d better go,” she said. “It is a lovely story, but if you are tired we can come some other time.”
“I am not tired, Caro,” Walter answered, taking her hand, “but perhaps you’d better go now, and as you say we will finish the story another time.” They smiled at each other in a way that expressed a world of friendly confidence.
Without another word Miss Grayson turned and left the room. She felt she was a marplot, and yet—those children—what else could she have done? As she went up stairs the sounds of laughter followed her; she wished she had not hurried home.
She did not mention the children when she returned to her brother after they had gone, but talked of business and other matters, making an effort to act as if nothing unusual had happened.