“No without mamma,” said little Sibby, putting one hand out timidly, and with the other clinging to her mother’s dress.
“Oh, no,” said Harry, “not without mamma, she must come too; but you have not told me your name. She is shy, I suppose.”
“A silly thing,” said Margaret, stroking her child’s dark hair. “Her name is Sybilla, Sybil is prettier; but in Scotland we call it Sibby, and sometimes Bell for short. Now, dear, you must not hold me, for the gentleman will not eat you, and here is the tea.”
Harry felt himself elected into one of the family, when Mrs. Sims came in, pushing the door open before her, with the tray in her arms; upon which there was much bread and butter of which he partook, finding it delightful, with a weakness common to young men in the amiable company of the objects of their affection. He drew his chair to the table opposite to Margaret, and set Sibby up on an elevated seat at the other side, and felt a bewildering sensation come over him as if they belonged to him. It was not a very high ideal of existence to sit round a red and blue table in a cottage parlour of a winter’s afternoon, and eat bread and butter; but yet Harry felt as if nothing so delightful and so elevating had ever happened to him before in all his life.
It was a sad interruption to his pleasure, when Dr. Murray came in shortly afterwards, pushing the door open as Mrs. Sims had done, and entering with the air of a man to whom, and not to Harry, the place belonged. He had his usual doubtful air, looking, as Lady Mary said, to see what you thought of him, and not sure that his sister was not showing an injudicious confidence in thus revealing to Harry the existence of such a homely meal as tea. But he had no desire to send the visitor away, especially when Margaret, who knew her brother’s humour, propitiated him by thrusting into his hand Lady Mary’s note.
“I am sure her Ladyship is very kind,” he said, his face lighting up, “Margaret, I hope you have written a proper reply.”
“When we have had our tea, Charles—will you not have some tea?” his sister said; she always took things so easily, so much more easily than he could ever do.
“Oh, you are having tea with the child, five o’clock tea,” said the poor doctor, who was so anxious to make sure that everybody knew him to have been “brought up a gentleman;” and he smiled a bland uneasy smile, and sat down by Sibby. He would not take any bread and butter, though he was hungry after a long walk; he preferred Harry to think that he was about to dine presently, which was far from being the case. But Harry neither thought of the matter nor cared; he had no time nor attention to spare, though he was very civil to her brother, and engaged him at once in conversation, making himself agreeable with all his might.
“I suppose you are making acquaintance with quantities of people, and I hope you think you will like the place,” he said.
“Yes, a great many people,” said Dr. Charles, “and it was full time that somebody should come who knew what he was doing. Dr. Franks, I am afraid, is no better than an old wife.”