“You have a bangle of your own. Why can’t you be content with that?”
“I want two—one for each arm; they look so nice with short sleeves. I’ll put it in my jewel-box, and lock it up safely—”
“I haven’t said I would lend it to you yet.”
But Hilary ran away laughing, and gathered brushes and bangles together in triumph.
It was on the evening preceding the journey to London that Mr Bertrand came upon his second daughter standing alone in the upstairs corridor, which ran the whole length of the house, pressing her forehead against the panes of the windows. Lettice had been unusually quiet during the last few days, and her father was glad to have the opportunity of a quiet talk.
“All alone, dear?” he asked, putting his arm round her waist and drawing her towards him. “I was thinking about you only a few minutes ago. I said on New Year’s Day, you remember, that I wanted to give each of you three girls some special little present. Well, Hilary is having this trip with me, and Norah seems in a fair way of getting her wish in the matter of lessons; but what about you? I’ll take you with me next time I go away; but in the meantime, is there any little thing you fancy that I could bring back from London town?”
“No, thank you, father. I don’t want anything.”
“Quite sure? Or—or—anything I can do for you here, before I go?”
“No, thank you, father. Nothing at all.”
The tone was dull and listless, and Mr Bertrand looked down at the fair face nestled against his shoulder with anxious eyes.