"
All his perplexity had vanished; he had taken his part; and he rattled
along with a friendly liveliness which cleared the shadows from Sylvia's
thoughts and provoked upon her face her rare and winning smile. He rang
the bell for the housemaid.
"My daughter will stay here," he said, to the servant's astonishment.
"Get the spare room ready at once. You will be hostess to-night, Sylvia,
and sit at the head of the table. I become a family man. Well, well!"
He took Sylvia up-stairs and showed her a little bright room with a big
window which looked out across the garden. He carried her boxes up
himself. "We don't run to a butler," he said. "Got everything you want?
Ring if you haven't. We have supper at eight and we shan't dress.
Only--well, you couldn't look dowdy if you tried."
Sylvia had not the slightest intention to try. She put on a little frock
of white lace, high at the throat, dressed her hair, and then having a
little time to spare she hurriedly wrote a letter. This letter she gave
to the servant and she ran down-stairs.
"You will be careful to have it posted, please!" she said, and at that
moment her father came out into the passage, so quickly that he might
have been listening for her approach.
She stopped upon the staircase, a few steps above him. The evening was
still bright, and the daylight fell upon her from a window above the
hall door.
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