“But, Mamma,” cried Sylvia, at last, “why did you bring me home like this?”
“Hush, dear,” said “Miss Margaret.” “Not now.”
And so more delay. Aunt Nannie was expected shortly—she had said she would run over to greet the returning voyagers. Sylvia scented trouble in this, and would no longer be put off, but took her mother aside. “Mamma,” she pleaded, “please tell me what’s the matter!”
The other colored. “It isn’t time now, my child.”
“But why not, Mamma?”
“Wait, Sylvia, please. It is nothing——”
“But, Mamma, did you send me such a telegram for nothing? Don’t you realize that I have been almost beside myself? I was sure that somebody was dead.”
“Sylvia, dear,” pleaded “Miss Margaret,” “please wait—I will tell you by and by. There are people here now——”
“But there’ll always be people here. Come into the library with me.”
“I beg you to calm yourself——”