Margaret looked pale, naturally, paler than usual, I thought, and she never was rosy in those days, though she is now. But she seemed very happy and smiling, and she was not coughing at all. And another thing that pleased me, was that she came round and stood by mamma's chair, as if she already felt quite at home with her.
Beryl drew a chair close to them and sat down.
'I was just saying,' said mamma, 'that we shall never be able to thank you enough, dear Miss Wylie, for your goodness to these three.'
'I am so glad, so very glad,' said Beryl, in her nice hearty sort of way, 'to have been of use. It was really quite a pleasant excitement last night—when it all turned out well, and Margaret was clever enough not to get ill. But please don't call me Miss Wylie. You have known dear old auntie so long—and she counts me almost like her own child. Do call me "Beryl."'
And from that time she has always been 'Beryl' to us all.
They, the Wylies, made us stay to luncheon. It was just about time for it by this. We did not see Mr. Wylie again, though he sent polite messages to mamma, and was very kind about it all.
And Mrs. Wylie came in to luncheon, and petted us all round, and said that we must all—Blanche and Elvira, and Clement too, if he wasn't too big, come to have tea with her, as soon as she got back to Rock Terrace.
We thanked her, of course. At least Peterkin and I did, but I noticed that Margaret got rather red and did not say anything except 'thank you' very faintly. She was still half afraid of finding herself again where she had been so unhappy, and indeed it took a good while, and a good deal of quiet talking too, to get it quite out of her head about Miss Bogle being a witch who was trying to 'enchanter' her, as her dear 'Perkins' (she calls him 'Perkins' to this day) would persist in saying.
Mrs. Wylie noticed her manner too, I fancy. For she went on to say, with a funny sort of twinkle in her eyes—
'There will be a great deal to tell the parrot. And I don't expect that he will feel quite happy in his mind about you, little Margaret, till he has seen you again. He will miss you sadly, I am afraid.'