“Perhaps he'll be there,” said Fan, in sudden fear.
“Oh no, bless you, he won't be there. He didn't mean any harm, don't you believe it. We were only going to shut you up in the house just for a few days because Miss Starbrow wanted us to.”
“Miss Starbrow!”
“Why, yes; didn't you get her telegram telling you to come to Twickenham to her, and that I'd meet you at the station?”
“Yes, I remember. Where is she?”
“The Lord knows, my dear. But it seems she's taken a great hatred to you, and can't abide you, and that's all I know. She came this morning with Captain Horton, and they arranged it all together; and she telegraphed and then went away, and said she hated the very sight of your face; and hoped I'd keep you safe because she never wanted to see you again, and was sorry she ever took you.”
“But why—why—what had I done?” moaned Fan, the tears coming to her eyes.
“There's no knowing why, except that she's a cruel, wicked, bad woman. That's all I know about it. Where is the telegram—have you got it?”
Fan put her hand into her pocket and then drew it out again.
“No, I haven't got it; I gave it to Rosie before I left—I remember now she asked me for it when I was in the cab.”