"Dear, dear, dear! seems to me, somehow, that Haddo Court and Stoke Farm are going to have a right good connection. I don't complain o' the b.u.t.ter, and the bread, and the cheese, and the eggs, and the fowls as we sarve to the school; but I never counted on the young ladies taking their abode in my quarters."

"What do you mean, and who are you?" said Sibyl in great amazement.

"My name, miss, is Farmer Miles; and this house"--he pointed to his dwelling--"is my homestead; and there are two young ladies belonging to your school lying fast asleep at the present moment in my wife's kitchen, and they has given me a problem to think out. It's a mighty stiff one, but it means life or death; so of course I have, so to speak, my knife in it, and I'll get the kernel out afore I'm many hours older."

Sibyl, who had been very miserable before she started, who had endured her drive with what patience she could, and whose heart was burning with hatred to f.a.n.n.y and pa.s.sionate, despairing love for Betty Vivian, was so exhausted now that she very nearly fainted.

The farmer looked at her out of his shrewd eyes. "Being a member o' the school, Miss Ray," he said, "you doubtless are acquainted with them particularly charming young ladies, the Misses Vivian?"

"Indeed I know them all, and love them all," said Sibyl.

"Now, that's good hearing; for they be a pretty lot, that they be. And as to the elder, I never see'd a face like hers--so wonderful, and with such a light about it; and her courage--bless you, miss! the dogs wouldn't harm _her_. It was fawning on her, and licking her hand, and petting her they were. Is it true, miss, that Miss Betty is so mighty bad?"

"It is true," said Sibyl; "and I wonder----Oh; please don't leave me standing here alone on the road. I am so miserable and frightened! I wonder if it's Sylvia and Hester who are in your house?"

"Yes, they be the missies, and dear little things they be."

"And have they told you anything?" asked Sibyl.

"Well, yes; they have set me a conundrum--a mighty stiff one. It seems that Miss Betty Vivian has lost a parcel, and she be that fretted about it that she's nigh to death, and the little uns have promised to get it back for her; and, poor children! they've set me on the job, and how ever I'm to do it I don't know."

"I think perhaps I can help you," said Sibyl suddenly. "I'll tell you this much, Farmer Miles. I can get that packet back, and I'd much rather get it back with your help than without it."

"Shake hands on that, missie. I wouldn't like to be, so to speak, in a thing, and then cast out o' it again afore the right moment. But whatever do you mean?"

"You shall know all at the right time," said Sibyl. "Mrs. Haddo is so unhappy about Betty that she wouldn't allow any of the upper-school girls to have lessons to-day, so she sent them off to spend the day in London. I happened to be one of them, and was perfectly wretched at having to go; so while I was driving to the railway station in one of the wagonettes I made up my mind. I settled that whatever happened I'd never, never, never endure another night like the last; and I couldn't go to London and see pictures or museums or whatever places we were to be taken to while Betty was lying at death's door, and when I knew that it was possible for me to save her. So when we got to the station there was rather a confusion--that is, while the tickets were being bought--and I suddenly slipped away by myself and got outside the station, and ran, and ran, and ran--oh, so fast!--until at last I got quite beyond the town, and then I found myself in the country; and all the time I kept saying, and saying, 'I will tell. She sha'n't die; nothing else matters; Betty shall not die.'"

"Then what do you want me to help you for, missie?"

"Because," said Sibyl, holding out her little hand, "I am very weak and you are very strong, and you will keep me up to it. Please do come with me straight back to the school!"

"Well, there's a time for all things," said the farmer; "and I'm willing to give up my arternoon's work, but I'm by no means willing to give up my midday meal, for we farmers don't work for nothing--as doubtless you know, missie. So, if you'll come along o' me and eat a morsel, we'll set off afterwards, sure and direct, to Haddo Court; and I'll keep you up to the mark if you're likely to fail."

CHAPTER XXII

FARMER MILES TO THE RESCUE

Sylvia and Hetty had awakened when the farmer brought Sibyl Ray into the pleasant farmhouse kitchen. The twin-boys were absent at school, and only the little twins came down to dinner. The beef, potatoes, dumplings, apple-tart and cream were all A1, and Sibyl was just as glad of the meal as were the two Vivian girls.

The Vivians did not know Sibyl very well, and had not the least idea that she guessed their secret. She rather avoided glancing at them, and was very shy and retiring, and stole up close to the farmer when the dogs were admitted. But Dan and Beersheba knew what was expected of them. Any one in the Stoke Farm kitchen had a right to be there; and were they going to waste their precious time and affection on the sort of girl they would love to bite, when Sylvia and Hetty were present? So they fawned on the twin-girls, taking up a good deal of their attention; and by and by the dinner came to an end.

When it was quite over the farmer got up, wiped his mouth with a big, red-silk handkerchief, and, going up to the Vivian twins, said quietly, "You can go home, whenever you like; and I think the job you have put upon me will be managed. Meanwhile, me and this young party will make off to Haddo Court as fast as we can."

As this "young party" happened to be Sibyl Ray, the girls looked up in astonishment; but the farmer gave no information of any kind, not even bestowing a wink on his wife, who told the little twins when he had left the kitchen accompanied by Sibyl that she would be ready to walk back with them to the school in about half an hour.

"You need have no frets now, my loves," she said. "The farmer would never have said words like he've spoken to you if he hadn't got his knife right down deep into the kernel. He's fond o' using that expression, dears, when he's nailed a poacher, and he wouldn't say no less nor no more for a job like you've set him to."

During their walk the farmer and Sibyl hardly exchanged a word. As they went up the avenue they saw that the place was nearly empty. The day was a fine one; but the girls of the lower school had one special playground some distance away, and the girls of the upper school were supposed to be in London. Certainly no one expected Sibyl Ray to put in an appearance here at this hour.

As they approached quite close to the mansion, Sibyl turned her very pale face and stole her small hand into that of the farmer. "I am so frightened!" she said; "and I know quite well this is going to ruin me, and I shall have to go back home to be a burden to father, who is very poor, and who thinks so much of my being educated here. But I--I will do it all the same."

"Of course you will, missie; and poverty don't matter a mite."

"Perhaps it doesn't," said Sibyl.

"Compared to a light heart, it don't matter a gossoon, as they say in Ireland," remarked the farmer.

Sibyl felt suddenly uplifted.

"I'll see you through, missie," he added as they came up to the wide front entrance.

A doctor's carriage was standing there, and it was quite evident that one or two doctors were in the house.

"Oh," said Sibyl with a gasp, "suppose we are betrayed!"

"No, we won't be that," said the farmer.

Sibyl pushed open the door, and then, standing in the hall, she rang a bell. A servant presently appeared.

Before Sibyl could find her voice Farmer Miles said, "Will you have the goodness to find Mrs. Haddo and tell her that I, Farmer Miles of the Stoke Farm, have come here accompanied by one o' her young ladies, who has something o' great importance to tell her at once?"

"Perhaps you will both come into Mrs. Haddo's private sitting-room?"

said the girl.

The farmer nodded a.s.sent, and he and Sibyl entered. When they were inside the room Sibyl uttered a faint sigh. The farmer took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

"What a lot o' fal-lals, to be sure!" he said, looking round in a by no means appreciative manner.

Sibyl and the farmer had to wait for some little time before Mrs. Haddo made her appearance. When she did so a great change was noticeable in her face; it was exceedingly pale. Her lips had lost their firm, their even n.o.ble, expression of self-restraint; they were tremulous, as though she had been suffering terribly. Her eyes were slightly red, as though some of those rare tears which she so seldom shed had visited them. She looked first at Farmer Miles and then in great amazement at Sibyl.

"Why are you here, Sibyl Ray?" she said. "I sent you to London with the other girls of the upper school this morning. What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps I can tell you best, ma'am, if you will permit me to speak,"

said the farmer.

"I hope you will be very brief, Farmer Miles. I could not refuse your request, but we are all in great trouble to-day at the school. One of our young ladies--one greatly beloved by us all--is exceedingly, indeed I must add most dangerously, ill."

"It's about her we've come," said the farmer.

Here Mrs. Haddo sank into a seat. "Why, what do you know about Miss Betty Vivian?"

"Ah, I met her myself, not once, but twice," said Miles; "and I love her, too, just as the wife loves her, and the big twins, and the little twins, and the dogs--bless 'em! We all love Miss Betty Vivian. And now, ma'am, I must tell you that Miss Betty's little sisters came to see the good wife this morning."

Mrs. Haddo was silent.