"Would you like it if I walked about a bit—or dropped in on old Rowlandson, while you talk with your uncle?" he asked.
"I want you with me, John. I need you," said Phyllis.
"Together's the word," he replied, and they mounted the stairs.
So far as Phyllis was concerned, it was all over in a moment.
Sir Peter rose when they entered. She gave one look at his sad, white face, and drawn mouth.
"Oh, Uncle Peter!" she cried; and was in his arms.
He tried to say the words he had humbly learned.
"I have your pardon to ask, my dear—"
That was as far as he got. She put both hands over his mouth; and withdrew them only to kiss him and whispered—
"It is I who should ask your pardon, Uncle Peter. I have been very, very naughty, And I am very, very sorry."