"This will never do," she told herself at last, after standing some moments at the window looking across at the peak through a blur of tears,—"I must brace up and comfort Elsie." But Elsie was not to be comforted all at once, and the wheels of that evening drave rather heavily.
Next morning, as soon as her usual tasks were despatched, Clover ordered Marigold saddled and started for the Youngs'. Rose's last remarks had made her uneasy about Imogen, and she remembered with compunction how little she had seen of her for a fortnight past.
No one but Sholto, Lionel's great deerhound, came out to meet her as she dismounted at the door. His bark of welcome brought Ah Lee from the back of the house.
"Missee not velly well, me thinkee," he observed.
"Is Missy ill? Where is Mr. Young, then?"
"He go two hours ago to Uppey Valley. Missee not sick then."
"Is she in her room?" asked Clover. "Tie Marigold in the shade, please, and I will go in and see her."
"All litee."
The bed-room door was closed, and Clover tapped twice before she heard a languid "Come in." Imogen was lying on the bed in her morning-dress, with flushed cheeks and tumbled hair. She looked at Clover with a sort of perplexed surprise.
"My poor child, what is the matter? Have you a bad headache?"