“Mistress is upstairs in her sitting-room. I’ll tell her you’re here, miss.”
“Thank you Burks, she expects me. I’ll go up.”
The maid disappeared, and Sylvia ran up the shallow stairs to the first floor, and knocked at a door on the right.
“Ah! my dear child!”
Anne half rose from a couch which was placed close to the window.
The matting blinds outside were half drawn to keep out the glare of the sun, and the room was filled with a light soft and green, as though it had filtered through a canopy of leaves. Beneath the blinds one caught a glimpse of one of the rose-gardens. Protected by a yew hedge, roses of all colours lifted their sweet, hot faces to the sun. A grass path running down the middle of the garden ended at a white seat, in a bower of white blossom.
Sylvia drew a deep breath. “I believe all the delicious scents in the world are here!” she exclaimed.
“That’s why I like this room in the afternoon,” said Anne. “The sun draws all the sweetness out of the roses, and sends it up here. Take off your hat, my child. You’ve had a tiring walk, I’m afraid.”
“I’d walk twenty miles in the sun to find you at the end of them,” declared Sylvia, vehemently.
Anne laughed, as she got up and rang the bell for tea.