“Who told you?”
“Papa and the others?”
“Hilary?”
“No,” replied Nest, gravely; “they will not let me talk to her about it. Sybil told me not; and she never has spoken about it at all, since she has been ill.”
“She is well now?” said he, inquiringly.
“Better, but not well. She can not walk much. She is in the garden.”
“Will she see me, do you think?” said he, stopping at the porch, and setting Nest on one of the benches.
“I don’t know,” replied the little girl, gravely. “She has seen nobody but Mr. Paine, for days. She could not see Mr. Huyton, when he came last, though he sent me to ask her; and you know he pulled her out of the water, as you did me. She said she was too ill.”
“But she is better now,” said he, earnestly; “perhaps she will not mind me. Is your papa in?”
“No, only Hilary, and she is in the garden. I will go and ask her, if you like; or you will come, and she must see you then.”