Mr. Gallilee opened the door for him.
“By the-bye,” he added, as he stepped out, “what’s become of Zo?”
“She’s upstairs, in the schoolroom.”
He made one of his dreary jokes. “Tell her, when she wants to be tickled again, to let me know. Good-evening!”
Mr. Gallilee returned to the upper part of the house, with the papers left by Benjulia in his hand. Arriving at the dressing-room door, he hesitated. The papers were enclosed in a sealed envelope, addressed to his wife. Secured in this way from inquisitive eyes, there was no necessity for personally presenting them. He went on to the schoolroom, and beckoned to the parlour-maid to come out, and speak to him.
Having instructed her to deliver the papers—telling her mistress that they had been left at the house by Doctor Benjulia—he dismissed the woman from duty. “You needn’t return,” he said; “I’ll look after the children myself.”
Maria was busy with her book; and even idle Zo was employed!
She was writing at her own inky desk; and she looked up in confusion, when her father appeared. Unsuspicious Mr. Gallilee took if for granted that his favourite daughter was employed on a writing lesson—following Maria’s industrious example for once. “Good children!” he said, looking affectionately from one to the other. “I won’t disturb you; go on.” He took a chair, satisfied—comforted, even—to be in the same room with the girls.
If he had placed himself nearer to the desk, he might have seen that Zo had been thinking of Carmina to some purpose.
What could she do to make her friend and playfellow well and happy again? There was the question which Zo asked herself, after having seen Carmina carried insensible out of the room.