“Call me ‘Ella,’ please,” interrupted the girl. “I’m not Miss St Quentin, and besides—any friend of dear godmother’s—”
“Ella, then,” went on the old lady, completely subjuguée—“won’t you bring Ella over to see me, while she is with you? We might make up a little party—it is so near Christmas and there are a few young people in the neighbourhood just now—let me see, the day after to-morrow—”
“But I am not staying here after to-morrow,” said Ella gently, “my sister and I are going back to Coombesthorpe to-morrow morning.”
“Yes,” said Madelene, who at that moment joined the group, “we must be off early, too. There are such a lot of things to do just at Christmas time. We have to settle about Christmas day too, Aunt Anna. Papa does so hope you and Philip will come to us.”
“On one condition,” said Lady Cheynes quickly, “and that is that you will leave me Ella till then. I will bring her back to you on Christmas eve, that is next Monday, without fail. Ermine leaves—let me see, when is it?”
“The day after Christmas,” Madelene replied.
“Ah, well then, it would of course be selfish to take Ella from you when you are alone. But till then—you and Ermine will have lots of preparations to make for her visit; this child here would only be in the way.”
Madelene murmured something about “papa.” Her face was a curious study, so mingled were its expressions—of pleasure and even excitement, of almost wistful anxiety and misgiving. Ella watched her closely; the misgiving she was quick to see, not so the pleasure.
“Of course she will find some reason against it,” thought the girl.
Lady Cheynes tapped Miss St Quentin on the arm.