“Put it down, Chayter,” said she, “I will read it by and by. I am in no humour now to bore over a long crossed scrawl from a tiresome school friend.”
The girl laid the letter upon the small table at Helen’s elbow, remarking to herself, as she gazed upon the superscription, that the school friend wrote a remark ably vigorous, masculine hand.
“Where is papa?” inquired Helen, with seeming apathy, although deeply interested in the answer.
“In the library, if you please, miss,” the girl answered.
“And mamma, and the rest of them,” added Helen. “Your mamma, and his Grace, and Miss Margaret, and Mr. Malcolm, are walking in the garden.”
“Yes.”
“And the Honorable Mr. Lester Vane and Miss Evangeline are in the drawing-room.”
“In the drawing-room?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Alone?”