“At the seaside, dear!”
“Do you mean at Sandyseal?”
“Yes. Mamma liked him—and grandmamma liked him (which is wonderful)—and I gave him a kiss. Promise me not to tell! My nice Captain is going to be my new papa.”
Was there any possible connection between what Kitty had just said, and what the poor child had been deluded into believing when she spoke of her father? Even Susan seemed to be in the secret of this strange second marriage! She interfered with a sharp reproof. “You mustn’t talk in that way, Miss Kitty. Please put her off your lap, Miss Westerfield; we have been here too long already.”
Kitty proposed a compromise; “I’ll go,” she said, “if Syd will come with me.”
“I’m sorry, my darling, to disappoint you.”
Kitty refused to believe it. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried,” she said boldly.
“Indeed, indeed, I must go away. Oh, Kitty, try to bear it as I do!”
Entreaties were useless; the child refused to hear of another parting. “I want to make you and mamma friends again. Don’t break my heart, Sydney! Come home with me, and teach me, and play with me, and love me!”
She pulled desperately at Sydney’s dress; she called to Susan to help her. With tears in her eyes, the girl did her best to help them both. “Miss Westerfield will wait here,” she said to Kitty, “while you speak to your mamma.—Say Yes!” she whispered to Sydney; “it’s our only chance.”