Chapter Ten.
The Look on Papa’s Face.
A week or two after, papa came in one day just as mamma and I were finishing luncheon, looking rather grave.
“I am very sorry for the Yew Trees people,” he said; “I’ve been there this morning to see Addie. I’m afraid he’s in for bronchitis, poor little chap, and troubles never come singly. Captain Whyte has heard that a favourite cousin of his—a Major Hugo Whyte, who has just come home from India—is very ill. He says he is like a brother to him, and he’s very cut up.”
“Is he going to see his cousin?” mamma asked.
“N-no; there seem other difficulties, family complications. He was going to tell me more, but we were interrupted. Lady Honor sent for Captain Whyte in a hurry. I hope there’s nothing wrong there. I don’t know what’s coming to everybody.” Papa, usually so cheerful, looked rather depressed. “The Whytes have some money bothers, too, I fear.”
“Evey and Mary haven’t got any new winter jackets,” I said. “They’re still wearing their tweed ones, with knitted vests underneath. The old lady can’t have sent them any Christmas present.”
Papa glanced at me in surprise.
“What old lady? You seem to know a great deal about our neighbours’ affairs, Miss Connie.”