Jacky seemed to think so too: she filled out Anne’s cup of tea, and lingered about the back of her chair.
“If ye please, Miss Anne—”
“Well, Jacky?”
“If ye please,” said Jacky, hesitating, “do ye ken wha little Miss Lilie is?”
Anne started and turned round in alarm—was this strange, dark maid of her’s really an elfin, after all?
“No, Jacky,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because—it’s no forwardness, Miss Anne,” murmured Jacky, hanging down her head.
“I know that, Jacky—because what?”
“Because, Miss Anne,” said Jacky, emboldened, “I saw a lady down on the sands. She was standing close by the bushes at yon dark house, and her e’en were travelling ower the water, and her face was white—I will aye mind it—and—”
“And what?”