Читать книгу Sydney Lisle, the Heiress of St. Quentin онлайн

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“Yes, she’s ours right enough,” said Hugh, putting his arm round his “little sister,” as Sydney Lisle would have called herself.

And then, quite suddenly, Dr. Chichester’s voice was heard calling “Sydney! Sydney!”

“There’s father calling; mother must have told him!” Sydney cried, and, gathering together her precious cheque and letter, she rushed out like a whirlwind.

“The pater is in the drawing-room, Syd,” Hugh called after her; “he just took up his letters and went straight in there to mother,” he added, for the others’ benefit. Sydney was already out of hearing, and only echoes of her fresh young voice came floating back to them, as she ran down the long back passage and up the stairs through the hall to the drawing-room.

“Merrily! merrily shall I live now! Merrily! merrily!”

Mildred stooped to pick up the mending-basket which Sydney’s energetic movements had swept off her knee. “I wonder whether Sydney ever will grow up!” she said.

“Well, she’s right enough as she is,” said Hugh, at last beginning on his long-delayed tea.