Miss Rolf was greeted by all three occupants of the room at once.
"Well, Phyllis?"—from the gentleman.
"Did you see her?"—this from the boy.
"Well, what happened?"—this from the lady.
Miss Rolf sank into one of the many easy-chairs, and, leaning back, began to draw off her long gloves.
"Yes, I saw her," she answered, smiling. "It was really very interesting. Quite like something in a story. There was the horrible little store, and Mrs. Rupert, a vulgar sort of woman; and then the little girl came in—dreadfully untidy and dowdy-looking, but really not at all so common as I feared. She has the hazel eyes every one admired so in her father."
"And did you tell her that her aunt Letitia wants her to go to Beverley?" said the boy, eagerly.
"No, I didn't," rejoined Miss Rolf. "I thought I'd do that when I went to-morrow. There was no time to discuss the matter. Besides, I wanted to see the child alone first."
"Why not send for her to come here?" Mrs. Grange said, gently.
"Not a bad idea," said Miss Rolf, sitting upright. "She might come to-morrow, instead of my going there."