THE SIXTH DAY

MISS ANN HAS "MUCH TO SAY"

On the afternoon of the sixth day, at the hour which had hitherto been
kept for the Boy, Christobel Charteris, in response to another urgent
and immediate summons, went to take tea with Miss Ann.

It had been a long, dull, uneventful day, holding at first a certain
amount of restless uncertainty as to whether the Boy was really gone;
mingled with apprehensive anticipation of a call from the Professor.

But before noon a reply-paid telegram arrived from the Boy, sent off at
Charing Cross.

"_Good morning. All's well. Just off for Folkestone. Please tell me
how you are._"

To which, while Jenkins and the telegraph-boy waited, Miss Charteris
replied:

"_Quite well, thank you. Do be careful at Folkestone._"

and afterwards thought of many other messages which she might have
sent, holding more, and better expressed. But that precious moment in
touch with the Boy passed so quickly; and it seemed so impossible to
think of anything but commonplace words, while Jenkins stood at
attention near the table; and the telegraph-boy kept ringing his
bicycle-bell outside, as a reminder that he waited.

Yet her heart felt warmed and comforted by this momentary contact with
the Boy. He still cared to know how she was. And it was so like him
to put: "All's well." He wished her to know he had not gone down
beneath his trouble. "Fanks, but I always does my own cawwying."
Brave Little Boy Blue, of long ago!

The expectation of the Professor's note or call remained, keeping her
anxious; until she heard from Ann Harvey, that her brother had been
obliged to go to London on business, and would not return until the
evening. "Come to tea with me, dear child," the note concluded; "we
have _much_ to say!"

It seemed to Christobel that there remained nothing which Miss Ann had
not already said, in every possible form and way. Nevertheless, she
put on her hat, and went. Miss Ann had succeeded in impressing all her
friends with the conviction that her wishes must never be thwarted.

Miss Ann had named her villa "Shiloh," undoubtedly a suitable name, so
far as she herself was concerned; her time being mostly spent upon a
comfortable sofa in her tiny drawing-room; or reclining on a wicker
lounge beneath the one tree in her small garden; or being carefully
wheeled out in a bath-chair.

But nobody else found Miss Ann's villa in any sense a "resting-place."
She had a way o